Tummy time!

Multi-tasking. It's the latest buzz word, and supposedly it's a great skill to have, it's so valuable, businesses need employees to multi-task. Um, sorry, but I think multi-tasking has existed for a long time. I think it's called life -- not to sound too snarky. I can certainly multi-task with the best of them -- carry on a quarter of a conversation whilst doing three other things. Personally, I think multi-tasking yields doing several things poorly. These days, I find myself wishing to do just one thing well.

Yesterday morning, I came upstairs from the playroom (AKA The Toy Pit) to start the kettle to warm Peter's next bottle. Much to my surprise, I found a massive branch from our tree in the front strewn across not only our lawn, but also our neighbors'.

JOY. Now, I tend to agree with Robert Frost on this one ("Something there is that does not love a wall.") Good fences do not make good neighbors, in my opinion, and, well, neither does a fallen tree limb. Luckily for Jason and for me, we are surrounded by neighbors who remind us of Fred and Ethel Mertz, those neighborly neighbors of yesteryear who don't seem to exist much outside of Nick at Night. Long story short, our wonderful neighbor advised us to call the town immediately to have them come to clear the branch -- we thought we'd have to call a tree removal company until he informed us that all trees within four feet of the curb are considered town property and are thus the town's to deal with.

I was soon to discover that there is nothing more enchanting to my two eldest sons than to see a big truck pull up to the front of our house and remain there for several minutes. The brigade of collectors was done in a matter of minutes, leaving only the thickest stump of the branch to be cut up later by a man who returned with a chainsaw. I knew Owen had rounded a corner from his fears (he covers his ears and screams at everything from the vacuum cleaner to the electric mixer while Nicholas screams with glee at all noisy appliances) when he watched the man with the chainsaw cutting up the last of the fallen branch and said, "Look, Mommy, I'm not scared."

In my efforts to multi-task yesterday, I came downstairs while Nicholas was napping and Owen was in the bath upstairs (we usually have to drag him out, so I didn't worry) to start another bottle for Peter. Wasn't I shocked at the foot of the stairs to find Owen, soaking wet and naked as a grape, telling me, "I'm all done with my bath, Mommy." He's surprising me much more lately with all that he is able to do and say -- and ask! In the playroom, he'll pick up a toy and ask, "Who gave this to me, Mommy?" Luckily, I have the memory of a steel trap, but Santa is always a great fallback... Owen has made several mentions of school this week, specifically the friends he misses there. Even though he won't be returning until the fall, I'm glad to know that he genuinely likes it there enough to miss it a month after he's left. I'm also happy that when he returns in the fall, Nicholas will accompany him. By that point I am sure they'll be as thick as thieves.

Nicholas is climbing everything these days, in every way imaginable. Today I had to stop him from climbing from the dining room chair onto the dining room table. He moved right from there over to the recliner, where he then attempted to climb from that onto the radiator cover. I need to introduce Nicholas to the baby-proofing people so they know the worst case scenario. Jason now has to reinstall one of our built-in baby gates because Nicholas has stood on it so much that it has ripped out of the wall at one of the hinges. Sometimes I wonder if I have a toddler or a pit bull.... Remember all those scenes from Turner and Hooch? Seriously, I know that many of Nicholas' traits are admirable. He is a problem solver, he's persistent, curious, a daredevil. But at 19 months, these attributes put him in a state of peril regularly. If ever one of his teachers suggests putting him on Ritalin, I will testify to the fact that he's ALWAYS been this active (even in utero) and that there's no shock or surprise to it for me.

Peter gave me several smiles this week (not gas!). I notice that in his wakeful periods, he is more alert to voices, particularly Owen's, which is funny because later on in the pregnancy, Owen used to greet "the baby in Mommy's belly" quite frequently. To look at Peter, you would know he has gained weight. He's quite the little pie-face, and already there are some clothes that don't fit him anymore. The pediatrician told me that if we all gained weight at the rate that newborns did in their first few months of life, we'd be about a thousand pounds by the time we were ten. YIKES!