I woke up this morning with the realization that I only had one day left -- a few hours, really -- to make any medical claims before our insurance changes tomorrow. And so I did what any good mother would do: I took my children to the doctor.

The visit was for Caleb -- his four month well check up. (And the appointment had actually been scheduled for over two months, but the insurance company doesn't know that, and I'd like to come out on top for once as far as health care is concerned.) He's healthy as a horse and right on target developmentally. Here are his stats:

Length: 26 1/4 inches (up from 23 3/4 inches at two months)
Weight: 18 lbs 9 oz (up from 12 lbs 12 oz at two months)

He's currently in the 90th percentile for both. I know he's grown a lot in the last two months, but I have to admit that I was a little shocked when I heard the numbers because he certainly doesn't look chubby. I guess all that weight is getting evenly distributed throughout those whopping 26 inches.

He handled his shots like a pro, and as a reward (okay, we'd be doing it anyway), we get to start introducing solids. Cereal, followed by veggies, followed by fruits. Oh my. Is my baby already old enough for this?

Reflux is still an issue, and we left the doctor's office with another prescription for an antacid. Hoping to continue to milk the insurance company for all they've got, we stopped by the pharmacy on the way home to fill it. A health care angel must have been perched on my shoulder today because they finally had a generic version which cost me only 10ドル instead of 45ドル. If I hadn't been weighted down with children and wet snow, I'm positive I would have skipped the whole way home.

Caleb cost us, and our insurance company, quite a bit this year, but he's been worth every penny, and I'm happy we get to claim him for our family. Here's to a healthy 2010 spent with him, his kooky older brother, and our new health savings account.

I don't think I can express in only 29 words how happy I am that Blake was born. But I can say that I love him, which is enough.

Yesterday, as we were sorting through the mail collected while we were out of town, we came across the official results of Garrett's evaluations for Early Intervention. It provided some rather interesting reading. Both the speech pathologist, and the special education instructor (who evaluated him a few days later) noted significant communication, as well as cognitive, delays in Garrett, enough for them both to strongly recommend he receive services. Whether or not he would receive them, however, was still up to the directors at EI.

A few minutes after we put the paperwork away, the phone rang. It was our service coordinator at Early Intervention calling with the news that Garrett has been deemed eligible for both speech therapy and special instruction. In the next week or so, an Individualized Family Service Plan (or IFSP) meeting will be scheduled where the course of Garrett's therapy will be outlined. Shortly thereafter, his sessions will begin.

I'm sure you can imagine how happy this news makes me. While on the one hand, it's hard to read through a report of how behind my child is falling, on the other, I'm pleased the results were what they were so that now he can get help. I was a little hesitant at first to accept the sessions in special instruction because, after all, Garrett seems to be a bright enough boy. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that he probably could benefit. The areas where he is delayed are likely related to his speech delay, and it can't hurt to do a little more to bring him up to speed.

So here we go. We're deep enough into the process that things can only move forward from here. Today Garrett pushed me out of his room and shut the door, preferring for what I think is the first time ever to play alone. He is growing up quickly. And it will be nice for his ability to express himself in words to start growing up with him.

If you know what movie I swiped my title from, then welcome to my world.

We are back in Brooklyn after our Christmas vacation in Provo. We had a lovely time and were kept busy visiting with my family, running around town, and playing drawn-out games of Hearts. Here are a few of highlights of our trip.

Family Photos. We can't all get together and not seize the opportunity to take pictures. They turned out great, I think.


The Annual Christmas Eve Extravaganza. As per tradition, we spent Christmas Eve at my cousin's house in Orem. With the surprise addition of my cousin, Julie, and her family, who came in from Texas, we were all there for the first time in I've forgotten how may years. The clam chowder was consumed, the Nay-tivity was performed (with Blake and I reprising our roles as Joseph and Mary, this time with Caleb as baby Jesus and Garrett as our wandering foster child), the talent show was a success, and so was the dancing. And oh, the dancing. We do the "Merry Christmas Polka," the Charlie Brown Christmas dances, an exercise routine to "Deck the Halls," and, of course, our Nutcracker Dance. This was was its 25th anniversary. It just gets more hilarious every year.



Christmas Morning. We had a small Christmas morning preview before we left so as to ease the weight of gifts in our luggage, but we did leave a few to give each other and the boys on Christmas morning. It was fun stay up past their bedtime to play Santa. Between their gifts from us and other family members, both of them cleaned up nicely. Caleb came away from some awesome infant toys, and Garrett got his very own set of kitchen tools and an apron so now he can be even more helpful when I'm cooking dinner. Give Garrett a fruit snack, and feed him for five minutes, but give Garrett the components of a play kitchen (plus a few Froot Loops), and feed him for much, much longer.


Temple Square. Christmas in Utah wouldn't be complete without a trip to see the lights on Temple Square. As usual, they did not disappoint. Also as usual, it was very cold. Which was one reason why we stopped in the Visitor's Center to watch Luke II. I love that movie, and will never get tired of watching it. Garrett loved the theater experience (his first), and, even though the film is only 5 minutes long, I was so impressed with how well he sat through it, I'm just about ready to take him to a full length feature film. On our way home from Salt Lake City, we stopped at my favorite Baja restaurant, Rubios. You have not lived until you have eaten their fish tacos.


Hanging Out with the Fam. I think the best part of the trip was spending time with my family. We may have overdone it on the games of Hearts, and, as much fun as the Wii is, I think I'm done with virtual bowling. But it was so nice to have my family all together for the holidays. With us in New York, one brother in Colorado, another brother soon moving to Ohio, yet another brother leaving in the next few months on a mission, and a wide open future for my two sisters, it will be a long while before we can again all be under one roof simultaneously. I spent the week soaking up as much time with them as I could get away with. Meanwhile, they were soaking up time with us. With the exception of my mom, no one in my family had yet met Caleb, and it was a lot of fun introducing him. It was also pretty great watching Garrett and his cousin, Henry, get to know each other. By the end of our trip, they were really warming up to each other. Together they de-ornamented the bottom half of the Christmas tree (with Henry's favorite items being the candy canes), played in their new tent, watched Sesame Street clips on YouTube with Grandma, and generally were up to no good. It was great.




A few other items worthy of mention:

• It was worth every penny we spent to let Garrett watch Up on the airplane.
• It's always good to see old friends. Thanks to all who were able to come to open house.
• Garrett's intestinal track does not travel well.
• I would give anything to have a Macey's in Brooklyn. And maybe also a Rubios.
  
• Riley is freaking hilarious. (And obnoxious. But mostly hilarious.)
• In-N-Out is good, but Five Guys is better.
• After a little seating management overseen by Tyler, we all managed to fit around the dining room table for Christmas dinner. I'm pretty sure, though, that the next time we're all together, we won't.
• Two children with a car can be just as difficult as two children without a car.
• Even so, I like -- and miss -- driving on a regular basis.
• Traveling back East does not bode well with bedtime routines.

As you can likely see, we had a wonderful time. It is, however, good to be back home. The remaining days of 2009 will be busy ones at our house, and there will be much to share with you, go goodbye for now, but I'll be back very soon.

Dear Caleb,

You are now four months old, and are, I am convinced, a much happier baby because of it. You are stronger, your insides are more developed, and consequently you have less these days to cry about. I can't seem to get enough of your spontaneous smiles, your ticklish laughter -- your overall pleasantness. Let's keep this trend going, okay?

You have accomplished a lot in the last month, and I have trouble knowing where to begin. Well, for starters, you smile all the time. It doesn't take much to make you burst into a grin. All I have to do is look at you and a wave of excitement courses through your long, skinny body, erupting in smile that turns bashful at the end as you blink and look away. You laugh a lot, too -- a hearty, and sometimes hoarse, little chuckle. You are ticklish, especially under your arms and on your chest, though you do not have to be physically provoked to laugh. You are keenly attuned to your silly older brother, and watching him often cracks you up.

Other things are also making you happy these days. Your fingers, for one. You love to suck on them. You won't take a binky, but you can't seem to get enough of your fingers. You gnaw on them when you need something to play with, and suck on them when you need to soothe yourself. You can find them in the middle of the night when you partially wake and they instantly put you back to sleep again. You also enjoy it when Garrett and I sing songs with you. "Patty Cake," "The Itsy Bitsy Spider," and "The Wheels on the Bus," are some of your favorites. To demonstrate your happiness, you coo conversationally and blow spit bubbles like they're going out of style.

Of course all of this makes me happy, too. I also love (and let me just emphasize LOVE) that you sleep through the night. We're talking nearly 12 straight hours, from about eight o'clock at night until eight in the morning. You sleep on your tummy (shh...don't tell the pediatrician), which you now claim as the most comfortable position to sleep in, and it has consequently made daytime tummy time all the more enjoyable for both of us. I also love that you travel well, which you are currently demonstrating as we spend the holidays in Provo, Utah, with your grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousin.

You are a strong boy now. You hold your head up high and firmly. You continue to roll over from your stomach to your back, and just recently you began roll from your back to your tummy -- a feat Garrett has also only recently learned how to do. You are also starting to grab toys with your knuckle-whitening death grip and bring them to your drool-filled mouth to suck on. When we get back to Brooklyn I will take you back to the doctor for your next well check up; I am anxious to see what the doctor has to say about how much you grown.

I love you, sweet Caleb! Until next month...

Love,
Mama

It might not have the same ring as "live from New York," but I'm happy to be here just the same. I really do love Provo. The big city is pretty magical, especially at this time of year, but Provo is a great place to have grown up and it's a great place to come back to. Plus, my family is here, and spending an hour with my brother, Riley, is more hilarious than an hour's worth of comedy sketches on Saturday Night Live.

Apparently, though, I'm missing a magnificent snow storm back in Brooklyn. As in, "church is canceled" big snow storm, which must be big because I've seen a few doozies in the last couple of winters, but this is the first time I've known them to cancel church. The part of me that has to venture outside is glad I'm missing it, but the rest of me wishes I wasn't.

I am, however, incredibly relieved that our plane was scheduled to depart before the storm hit, otherwise today I would not have been able to drive a car for the first time in two years. As I got behind the wheel, I was a little nervous that I would have forgotten how to make a car safely go (and so was Blake as he got situated in the passenger seat), but just like you can't forget how to ride a bike, you can't forget how to drive a car. It all came back to me in a heartbeat, and it made me kind of wish that we still had a car to drive back in New York. In the two and a half years we've lived in Brooklyn, I've never actually driven there, and I've only occasionally ridden in cars as a passenger, but I have apparently nonetheless developed a New York driving mentality. So if in the next week you pass me on the road, please forgive me my uncontrollable urge to honk and drive aggressively.

The knobs on nearly all of the doors in our apartment are as ancient as the building itself. Because of their age, they get stuck easily and are often hard to turn, which is one major reason why Garrett cannot open them.

Or perhaps I should say couldn't open them.

This morning he figured it out, thus plunging us headfirst into a new and potentially frightening era at our house.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go bury deeper the Christmas presents I am hiding in my closet.

A few things I've finished lately:

1. Monk. I haven't had access to cable for most of the eight years this show has been on the air, but thanks to Hulu, Blake and I have been able to do a bit of catching up. Last night we watched the 2-part finale of the show's final season. It was appropriately intense and everything I wanted to see happen as the show concluded did (and then some) -- specifically watching Monk finally solve his wife's murder. While I'm happy with how everything wrapped up, I'm sure going to miss the obsessive compulsive detective.

2. The Book of Mormon. Last night, in my personal scripture reading, I finished The Book of Mormon. I've lost count of how many times I've read these inspired words, but I never tire of the doctrine and stories it tells. I wish now that I could say the same about the reading of the Old Testament that Blake and I are plowing through together. We've been at it for months now, and we're still only in Numbers. One of these days (or years?) we'll wrap that up, too.

3. Christmas Shopping. With the exception of a few small gifts that I have to wait until we're in Provo to purchase, I am finished with my Christmas shopping. At my insistence, we started tackling our Santa duties early this year, and I'm so glad we did. It's made my December much more enjoyable.

What's not done? Getting ready for our trip to Provo. But by necessity that will be wrapped up in just a few more days. I absolutely cannot wait until it is.

And you can count on the fact that we'd love to see you if you'll be in the area. Our time in Provo is limited, and most of it will be spent with the family we came to celebrate the holiday with, so in order to see as many of you as possible, I am planning a casual open house-style gathering. Come when you can and go when you need to. But if you can at all swing it, I'd love to catch up with you in person!

When: Monday, December 21st from 5-8 pm.
Where: Provo.

If you'd like to come, email me and I'll send along location details. I think that most of you have my email address already, but if not, you can find it on my profile page.

I'll probably whip together some brownies or cookies or something, but if you have a favorite holiday treat you'd like to bring to share, I certainly won't stop you. :)

The Macy's on 34th Street in Manhattan is a magical place at Christmastime. The grand main entrance is decked out in vibrant poinsettias and big red bows, and from the ceiling dangle enormous ball-shaped ornaments. And today, the day Macy's declared as "National Believe Day," employees dressed as turn-of-the-century newsies hawked circulars designed as vintage New York Sun newspapers reprinted with Virginia's famous letter to the editor. Sure, it's crowded in the extreme, and stressed-out holiday shoppers and disoriented tourists are not the most pleasant people to cross paths with, but none of that seems to matter once you've walked inside, closing the chilly December air behind you.

This morning, bundled up against the bitter temperatures, the boys and I, along with our friends, Emily and Elizabeth, worked our way underground uptown to Macy's where we intended to pay a little pre-Christmas visit to Santa Claus. Everyone, from the shivering newsies just outside, to the elevator attendants, and all the way up to the elves working the crowds of children lined up on the 8th floor, where Santa is stationed, were not only nice (which is a rare treat indeed in this city), but they seemed genuinely happy to be at work.

We stood in the line (or on the line, which is how they say it in New York), which wasn't nearly as bad as it easily could have been, as it meandered through Santaland -- a magical place filled with decorated Christmas trees, oversized toys, and elves ready to bend over backwards to make sure you had a pleasant experience. Garrett was in a personal heaven.

Well, he was, that is, until we reached Santa. I'd been doing my best to prep him for the moment when he'd get to sit on Santa's lap, and Garrett had seemed excited to do so. But the apple apparently doesn't fall far from the tree, and he panicked when it was his turn. The only way he'd even get near jolly old St. Nick was if I was right there holding onto him, and even that was asking a bit much. Caleb, on the other hand, did great.


Garrett's extreme disinterest in Santa notwithstanding, we survived. No, we had an excellent time. The boys were incredibly well-behaved, and I didn't collapse in exhaustion as soon as we got back home. In fact, I'm thinking we could brave the hoards of holiday shoppers and tourists again next year for another visit to Santa.

And that, my friends, is the magic of Macy's.

I've known for some time that Garrett is a bit of a clown, but his ability to make Caleb laugh just by being himself tickles me, too.

I wrote recently about beginning the process of acquiring speech therapy services for Garrett through the Early Intervention program, and since then things have been moving along quickly. Shortly after getting a hold of EI, I was contacted by a service coordinator who came to my home to get the ball rolling. I was debriefed on the basics of how the program works, and then I signed a pile of paperwork to officially get things started.

Soon after I was contacted by a speech pathologist and a special education instructor, both of whom made appointments to come to my home to evaluate Garrett. The results of their evaluations, along with their personal recommendations, are what will determine Garrett's eligibility for Early Intervention services. We will meet with the special ed instructor this Saturday; the speech pathologist came by yesterday afternoon.

During her visit we first discussed my concerns about Garrett's speech, as well as the potential genetic influence for speech delays in his family history. Then she pulled out her picture charts and bag of toys and asked Garrett various questions to not only hear him talk, but also to determine his level of understanding.

According to the numbers, Garrett's receptive language, or his ability to comprehend, is just about on target. He's a bright boy, and he demonstrated that fact during the evaluation. In one instance she gave him a baby doll and a toy cup and asked him to pretend to give the baby a drink of water. Only she didn't actually say pretend, and consequently Garrett took the doll and the cup and marched right to the kitchen where he pulled a chair over to the sink, fully intending to give that baby a drink of water. His expressive language, or his ability to talk, on the other hand, was definitely determined to be below level. (At two years and five months of age, he is measuring to only have the ability of a child who is one year and eight months old. I can't tell you how nice it feels to know that I'm not crazy in suspecting a speech delay.) However, it was not so dramatically low that he would automatically qualify for services through EI. Because Early Intervention places a heavier emphasis on receptive language development, the combination of his two scores might make him ineligible for services.

The speech pathologist, however, is still going to recommend that he receive services because it is clear that he would benefit. She also does not want to see his family history repeat itself if that can be avoided. If, despite her recommendation, he still does not qualify for Early Intervention, I can first advocate for him to hopefully persuade them to give him services. If that is not successful, in the next couple of months I will be able to start the process of enrolling him in CPSE (which stands for the Committee for Preschool Special Education), which is run by the Department of Education and begins when he turns 3. The speech pathologist told me that in her experience it is often easier to get help through CPSE because a heavier emphasis there is made on expressive language.

The speech pathologist also told me that because Garrett's problems are phonological in nature, speech therapy is definitely in his future, whether or not he receives it through EI. He has a difficult time completely forming words, especially when it comes to closing the ends of words, with the results that many of his words for different things sound exactly the same. (For example, "buh" for him means "bubbles," "buttons" and, oddly, "raisins" -- I can't figure that one out.) In his head, he hears himself saying entire words, but that is not what those around him hear. These are problems that Blake and I are simply not trained to help him with, and it is not something that will completely disappear with time.

She was, however, very impressed with Garrett's ability to say "thank you," both in how he pronounced it, and in how politely and correctly he used it. Before she left she told me that whoever ends up getting to work with him in speech therapy is lucky indeed because he is a sweet boy -- a fact which, unless he's having an irrational meltdown, I couldn't agree more with.

The process for determining eligibility is obviously not yet complete, though I'm surprised that, for a government run program, things are moving along as quickly as they are. If things continue at this rate, we'll likely find out if Garrett will qualify and, if he does, get the services started by the end of the month or early January at the latest. I'll keep you updated as we learn more.

Browsing the holiday store front window displays in Midtown Manhattan has become a Christmas tradition in our family, and one which we enjoyed on Saturday evening with Frank and Laura, our old friends from Blake's Ball State days in Muncie, who are in town for a visit. When we began our usual loop, a cold but manageable bit of rain was falling, but it didn't take long for it to transition into big, wet snowflakes -- the city's first. Consequently, our views of the windows were a little more rushed than we would have liked. Still, though, we saw some great displays. My favorites were Barneys, which did a hilarious tribute to Saturday Night Live, and Bergdorf Goodma n, whose elegant windows followed the theme "A Compendium of Curiosities." (Click the links to see better photos.)

Step aside, NYPD, because Garrett is on the beat. Unfortunately, his desire for control has a tendency to complicate our lives. Here are just a few of the many capacities he has volunteered to serve in:

Prayer Police
Like a good Mormon boy, Garrett makes sure that we always remember to say our prayers, especially at mealtimes and before bed. "Beh, beh," he'll say, meaning, "Come on, guys, let's say a blessing," and then he'll fold his arms and [not-so] patiently wait for us do so as well. He doesn't actually say prayers himself yet, but as soon as Blake or I begin, he'll suddenly decide that he, as well as the rest of us, should be clasping our hands together instead of folding them. Rather than let his insistence evolve into a full-blown tantrum mid-prayer, we pause and shift our hands into the newly dictated position before continuing.

But a few second later Garrett will call out, "Eye! Eye!" meaning, "Everyone close their eyes now!" Up until then, they were closed -- well, perhaps not Garrett's, but rest assured that they are now. We pause again and try to hold in our chuckles as we peek at Garrett's tightly shut eyes, along with his scrunched up nose and gritted teeth.

"Amen," we say as we finally are able to finish the prayer, and "Deedoo, Ma," Garrett says, meaning "Thank you, Mom," as, depending on the situation, he either dives for his food or his silky blue blanket. I think I'd find these habits charming except that, after experiencing them several times a day, they are getting somewhat old.

Spice Rack Police
I have a spice rack on my kitchen counter that Garrett has recently adopted. He likes to take those tempting little spice-filled canisters off, then stack them up, roll them around on the floor, or stuff them in the microwave. And should my recipe call for a teaspoon of basil or oregano, heaven forbid I try to touch them. There is usually little point in arguing with my toddler -- and besides, letting him harmlessly play with the spices is an excellent distraction while I take care of preparing dinner. So until the day comes when he figures out how to unscrew the lids and actually sprinkle dried spices over everything instead of just pretending to, I think I'll let him continue to be in charge my spice rack.

Traffic Police
Recently Garrett has become a stroller-riding equivalent of a back seat driver. He is familiar enough with our neighborhood to know where things (like the playgrounds and the best store front window displays) are and which direction we should be going in order to get to them. On the one hand, I find this ability rather impressive, but on the other, it sure does make running errands a little more emotional.

For example, we reach a corner when suddenly there is frantic whining down in front. "What's wrong?" I ask Garrett, and in response I get more whining and pointing in a direction I'm not headed in.

"You want to go this way?" I say.

"Yeah," he replies.

"But we need to go this other way," I tell him.

"Noooo!!!" he screams.

"But don't you want to go home?" I try to reason with him. He nods in the affirmative, so I continue, "Well, home is this way, not that way."

"Noooo!!!" he screams again.

In the end I just have to take a deep breath and continue to head home my way, reminding myself as I do who is really in charge here.

The ingredients have been collected. The oven is on, and so is my apron.

Let the holiday baking begin.

On the 2009 menu:

• Gingerbread Cookies
• Pecan Logs
  
• Toffee Squares (the linked recipe is the closest to what I'm making that I can find online)
  
• Chocolate Fudge
  
• Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Truffles
  

It's hard to believe people when they tell you that your newborn will grow out of the fussiness he apparently came packaged with when he was born. "Just wait until he's three months," they say. "Everything will be better then." And deep down you know that it will because you've done this before. But when he's six weeks, two months, even two-and-a-half months old, and the only things he gives you are screams and headaches, in all your exhaustion it's hard to remember that the misery will eventually come to an end and your baby will emerge from that uncomfortable cocoon and will be happy. It's a magical thing, really, and the only reason I can tell you this now is because it has been happening at our house.

After three months of adjusting to an existence outside of the womb, Caleb has finally come to terms with his life. He is happy and actually pleasant to be around. It's as if a new baby has come to live at our house. Which isn't to say that things are perfect. He's still human, after all, and as such is prone to the occasional teary meltdown. But the keyword here is occasional. It's no longer a constant part of his personality.

At any rate, here are some things I'm loving about this "new" (and dare I say improved?) Caleb:

- His smiles have been upgraded from "amateur" to "professional." If you say his name or talk to him, he smiles. If you look at him, he smiles. And sometimes, when he's in a good mood and wants the world to know it, he'll sigh contentedly and smile. And these aren't your run-of-the-mill baby smiles either. They're full-blown, eye-twinkling grins, bursting with uncontainable excitement. (The camera hardly does them justice, but I think you get the idea.)



- He has learned to laugh. He doesn't yet do it spontaneously, but in the evenings, during his second wind just before bedtime, he is especially giddy and ticklish. He thinks it's hilarious when we pretend to gobble up his hands, and I think it's hilarious that laughing gives him the hiccups.

In the wake of Garrett's birth, nearly two and a half years ago, we were so busy packing up, moving to, and getting settled in Brooklyn that we never sent out a formal birth announcement. This is something I have always regretted. So I told myself that with the next baby I'd be more on top of things.

A few months before Caleb was born, my friend Ashley moved back to Brooklyn after a year-and-a-half hiatus to finish school. While she was away she honed in on her awesome design skills and opened up an Etsy shop called Nouveau Designs. What could be more perfect than having a graphic designer land right in your lap in time for the birth of a child for whom you desperately wanted to send out birth announcements? I'll tell you what: Nothing, except for maybe the announcement she put together for Caleb:


I know! Awesome, right? The design was a back-and-forth collaborative effort, and I LOVE what she ultimately came up with. I mean, if you're gonna give birth to a baby in Brooklyn, New York, you might as well capitalize on that fact when creating his announcement. And see that lit up window? That's ours. Because we're up in the middle of the night taking care of our sweet baby.

I wish I could have mailed an announcement to each of you, but after copies were sent out to family, my supply had been whittled down considerably. But I'm happy that I can share it with you via that fabulous instrument known as the internet. For those who didn't find a copy in your mailbox, this is the photograph that accompanied the announcement (he was about two weeks old when this picture was taken):


I might not be able to undo the past, but with Ashley's help I was able to retroactively put together a birth announcement for Garrett. I love how it turned out, and how, like Caleb's design fit his birthplace, so too did Garrett's. Muncie, Indiana is home to the Academy of Model Aeronautics which Blake and I liked to visit -- especially when people from all over the country would come to the airfields to fly their planes during the annual competitions.


We only ordered enough of these to keep for ourselves, but it really makes me wish that I'd thought to hire Ashley in the fall of 2007 when we were both new to Brooklyn.

If any of you are in the market for birth announcements (or cards or invitations...her darling advent calendars sell like hotcakes), I highly recommend Ashley and her work. Seriously, go check out her stuff.

I've been concerned for quite some time now about an ever more apparent speech development delay in Garrett. While his vocabulary is slowly expanding, at nearly 2 1/2 years old he can only say a small handful of words that are understandable to those who don't live with him, and he is not yet putting simple sentences together, as most children his age are. He speaks almost constantly and with incredible voice inflections, but what he says mostly sounds like babbling. When I compare him to his peers, he talks now like they were talking a year ago.

The problem does not appear to stem from his hearing, as he understands and carries out basic instructions from me. He seems, too, to be able to answer simple questions that I ask him, even though I often have no idea of the specifics of his replies. It seems more to me to be a "wiring" issue: he hears fine, but somewhere between his brain and his mouth things get scrambled and the words he produces do not come out as he necessarily intended them to. In fact, after some conversations with my mother-in-law, I am even more convinced that this is where the trouble stems from. Blake had similar speech delays when he was very young, and consequently went through many years of speech therapy.

Earlier today I took Garrett in to see his pediatrician to hopefully begin the process of helping his speech develop as it should. The doctor referred us to the city's Early Intervention program, which is available for children up through age 2. He gave me their phone number, and once we got home, I called to get the ball rolling. Unfortunately, though, no one was in (likely because of the Thanksgiving holiday) so I probably won't be able to get a hold of anyone until early next week.

Before I left the office I was warned that, if after the initial evaluation Garrett's speech was deemed not too horribly delayed, we might be denied the free services EI provides. I'm hoping, though, that given my own observations of Garrett in combination with the family history of speech problems, he will qualify for speech therapy sessions. Besides, the doctor also told me that it's much easier to present a case for further speech therapy to the school board (who succeed the folks at EI once a child turns 3) if I have official in-hand proof from Early Intervention that my child's therapy should not yet be terminated.

I've been warned by several people that working with "the system" often proves to be an uphill battle, but for the sake of my son, I plan to do whatever I can to get him help. So here we go. And maybe, hopefully, it will be sooner rather than later that I will be able to understand what the heck Garrett is always talking about.

I imagine that a lot of you have already seen this particular Mormon Message, but I really like this one, not only for the message of gratitude it conveys, but also (and maybe especially) because it was filmed at Times Square and features New Yorkers (and a few tourists, but, according to E. B. White, when they're here, they're New Yorkers, too).

[埋込みオブジェクト:http://www.youtube.com/v/Tuwid8_O8dk&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0]

I love New Yorkers. They may be a little rough and aggressive around the edges, but that's really only a front for how kind and helpful most of them naturally are. They point you in the right direction when you're lost, they give you the long version of their opinions, and they help you get your stroller up the subway stairs. Today I am particularly grateful for the lovely Jewish woman who helped me get mine back up to street level yesterday when I took the boys to meet Blake in the city yesterday afternoon. It's people like her who help me overcome the fear I've recently developed of straying too far from home on my own with Garrett and Caleb.

Though my relationship with this city is often of the "love-hate" variety, I really am grateful that I get to live here. New York City is one of a kind. The opportunities here are endless; there is always something to see and do. We didn't line the streets this morning to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, opting instead to watch it on TV, but even so, as I watched the broadcast, I was overwhelmed by thoughts of, I live here! How awesome is that?! The lifestyle has taken some adjustment, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that there are an awful lot of things about this place that someday, when our time here is up, I will miss terribly.

I am grateful for my home here in Brooklyn, for the quirks and character of this old building. I'm grateful that I get to spend Thanksgiving in it and that I get to cook a simple feast in a kitchen which, though small, is bigger than the closet-sized kitchens a lot of apartments in this city have.

But most of all, this Thanksgiving I am grateful for Blake, Garrett, and Caleb, the boys with whom today I will be dining. They are my world, and I would be nothing without them.

A couple of weeks ago, Blake's old co-worker, Andrea, was back in town visiting from her new home in Berlin, and while she was here she took photographs of Garrett and Caleb. I think that, given the simultaneously uncooperative nature of both boys (which is why there are no photos of them together), they turned out pretty great. I am a lucky mother to have two such darling children.

Dear Caleb,

Today you are three months old and, during this week of Thanksgiving, I want to tell you some of the reasons why I am so thankful for you.

I am thankful that you are growing strong. You have outgrown your 0-3 month wardrobe in favor of the adorable outfits in the 3-6 month size. I am thankful that you are overall a healthy baby boy, especially so now that you are being treated for reflux. As I watch you suck on your fingers in an effort to self-soothe, I realize that you are starting to emerge from those dark and difficult newborn days, and consequently life for both of us is becoming more pleasant.

I am thankful that you are now sharing a room with your brother. You occasionally disturb each other during the night, which is to be expected, and which I presume will continue so long as you are roommates, but overall you have made the transition from the cradle in my room to the crib in your room pretty successfully. I am thankful that, for a child of your age, you sleep well through the night, only waking once to eat (and occasionally once or twice more, for which you require a little bit of help to fall back asleep). I am thankful, too, that you are inching your way closer to settling into a more predictable daytime routine.

I am thankful for your smiles, which you dole out so frequently. I am especially tickled by the contented grins you give me when I put you into a clean diaper. I am so happy to have discovered that you can laugh, and I am thrilled that you are ticklish. I love your coos and the conversations we have when you are especially giddy.

I am thankful for your developing personality. I am thankful that you are YOU and not a clone, both in physical appearance and in temperament, of your older brother. I love you, my sweet Caleb, and I am so thankful that you are mine.

Love,
Mama

My parents and Blake's parents were married on the same day one year apart. It's kind of spooky if you think about it too long. So we won't. Instead we'll just wish them both a very

If you have spent any time recently tuned into either PBS or Google's homepage, you probably know that this month Sesame Street is celebrating its 40th birthday. The Brooklyn Public Library system is observing the anniversary, and Garrett and I have joined in on the fun.

On Monday we stopped by our local branch to sign Garrett up for his very own (and very first) limited edition Elmo library card. With it we checked out the classic book The Monster at the End of this Book.


On Wednesday, after Story Time, we stopped by a display of Sesame Street DVDs in the children's department and picked up a couple of Sesame Street: Old School DVDs. Watching them with Garrett only convinces me further that the Sesame Street I grew up watching was far better than the Sesame Street he watches today.

And today my friend Emily and I took our children up to the Central Branch of the Brooklyn Library to see their Sesame Street: A Celebration of 40 Years of Life on the Street exhibit. It was pretty cool, in part because of the pleasant childhood memories the memorabilia evoked as we browsed the displays, but mostly because there were actual muppets showcased in the foyers -- Grover, Cookie Monster, Bert and Ernie, Prairie Dawn, among others.


It might lead to a Sesame Street overdose, but maybe later Garrett and I will sit down and watch some classic clips. Some things, I think, are worth the risk.

Garrett likes to do whatever Caleb is doing. For example, when it's time to feed Caleb, Garrett is suddenly (and ravenously) hungry. When I'm snapping a few photos of Caleb, Garrett jumps into the shot and says "Cheeeeese!" And when I lay a blanket down on the floor so Caleb can have a bit of tummy time, Garrett gets into position to do the very same. He even grabs himself one of Caleb's baby toys.



Two nights ago, we introduced yet another thing that Garrett and Caleb can do together: sleep in the same bedroom. Garrett reached the point a few weeks ago where he slept better in the bottom bunk bed than he did in the crib, so we officially kicked him into big boyhood by raising the crib mattress and washing the crib bedding in preparation for his younger brother to use.

The crib may now have been ready for Caleb, but I wasn't quite ready to send him packing. There were a few things I wanted to accomplish before making the big move. One, we needed to do something about the difficulties we'd been encountering with Garrett's ability to settle down and go to sleep at bedtime; and two, if Caleb was going to be farther away from me during the night, I wanted him to have reached the point where he wasn't waking up every three hours to eat.

At about the same time that Garrett mastered the bottom bunk, I was working to master the art of Caleb's feeding schedule. A couple of bigger bottles spaced differently throughout the day later, and I magically had him down to a bedtime bottle around 8:00 and one nighttime feeding around 3:30.

So now that Caleb and I were sleeping much better, it was time to help Garrett do the same. I turned to the experts for help tackling this beast, namely the famed Dr. Richard Ferber and his classic book Solve Your Child's Sleep Problems. After reading about sleep cycles, circadian rhythms, and sleep phases, I realized that Garrett is an excellent sleeper. The problem lay with his bedtime, which was scheduled during his "forbidden zone for sleep." We shifted his bedtime from 8:00 (when he simply was not capable of sleeping) to closer to 9:00 (the time when, on a typical night, he was actually falling asleep) and voila! No more struggles at bedtime. He now falls asleep almost instantly and sleeps soundly through the night until he wakes naturally at 7:00.

Over the weekend, Blake and I realized that we wanted to reclaim our bedroom. Our first attempt to let Garrett and Caleb sleep together in the same room, on Sunday night, was about as unsuccessful as they come. But by Monday afternoon naptime, I was ready to try again. My strategy has been to put Caleb down first and then, once he was deeply asleep, it would be Garrett's turn to be tucked in. So far it has worked like a charm. It's been a bit of a juggling act on my part, trying to balance the times both boys get sleepy, but after two successful nights and three successful afternoon naps, I am just about ready to rechristen Garrett's Room as the Boy's Room.

Now whenever I tell Garrett to please be quiet because I'm going to put Caleb down, he first whispers to me to "Shhhh...quiet!" and then gathers up his blankets and climbs on his bed so that he can once again do the same thing Caleb is doing.

UPDATE:
Just because they are now sharing a room doesn't mean everything is peachy perfect. I wrote the above during this afternoon's nap. A few minutes ago I heard Garrett wake up; Caleb was still asleep. I stepped into the room to find the crib like this:


Can you find Caleb? Because he's in there, buried beneath all of the blankets and plush toys Garrett kindly decided to pile on top of -- err, I mean, share with him. (Yes, I unsmothered the baby, and no, to my great pleasure and surprise, he did not wake up.)