Check-Up Time

Well, it's the second week of November and that means at least one thing is for sure...annual check-up for Houston and Holt.  When I made the announcement this morning, the fear in Houston's eyes was immediate and unmistakable.  He hasn't had a vaccination since he was five.  Nor will he need another one until he is twelve.  This he knows and relies on for a confidence booster with every mention of the doctor's office.  "But I'm NOT getting a shot!" he declares with much authority.  And with a slightly more vulnerable tone he questions, "Am I getting a finger prick?"

I nod my head and in efforts to blow right past that terrifying truth, I offer with a gigantic grin, "And you get to pee in a cup!"  With my affirmation of a needle, that's when the panic began to set in.  You could almost witness the beads of sweat roll down his now pale face.  Since the cup didn't excite him, I felt another distraction tactic was in order, "I'm checking you guys out from school today!"

He didn't even look up from his bowl of Cookie Crisp.

Later that afternoon, as we walked up the sidewalk to Dr. Owen's office, the Funeral March playing in Houston's head was audible to us all.  I filled out the same paperwork for the ump-teenth time while Adam attempted to psych Houston up about the finger prick.  Once I was done with the forms, I pulled up last year's blog post on my phone about Houston and the finger prick for purposes of encouraging him.

"You were very reluctant to hand over your finger for a prick.  However, you finally did and realized it doesn't hurt!  (Just like Mom and Dad were trying to convince you.)  Hopefully, you will remember that next year.  Perhaps we should read this blog before going to your 8 year check up."

He nervously smiled and headed back over to solemnly watch whatever preschool show was blaring on the waiting room television.

I have failed to mention up until this point, although you probably assumed, that the entire Schwartz family was represented today.  We hadn't really thought about the logistics of cramming into an exam room when Adam and I agreed to all go to the appointment.  The open space is no more than 4 x 10.  Hawkins was in the stroller crammed all the way by the window while Houston and Holt sat on the exam table.  Adam and Hayes took up residence in the only two seats.  I stood in the "aisle".  I'm positive the room could not have held anymore Schwartz's.  Should we decide to have another child, I think our pediatrician should consider building a bigger, family-friendly exam room.

"Mommy, Mommy!  Can I wash my hands?" Hayes pipes in over the continual shuffling of weigh checks and height checks and blood pressure monitoring and head circumferences.  I'm not sure what it is in my second born, about the doctor's office that sparks a newfound passion for hygiene.  Due to the fact that we're snug in there like a jigsaw puzzle even without the two additional nurses, I asked him to wait.

Enter "Bug Lady".  That's what our kids have nicknamed the sweet nurse from the patho lab that comes in to prick fingers.  She got her name because she tells the kids that she is checking their blood for bugs.

Houston objected to every finger she wanted to use.  "That's my gamer finger!" he protested.  He began to beg.  And grovel.  Then he resorted to crying.  I decided to let her go ahead and prick Holt since Huey was having difficulty with accepting reality.  Commence Holt crying which made Hawkins cry.  Holt was screaming, Houston was crying, Nurse Julie was repeating "It's okay, it's okay" and the Bug Lady was calmly requesting "Let me see your finger.  It isn't gonna hurt!"  Adam and I were very sternly suggesting for Houston to man up and stick a finger out.  The poor kid in the exam room next to us probably thought that someone was getting their arm chopped off with all the sounds of anguish exuding from Room 12.

Adam managed to pry a finger out of the deeply clenched fist and that's when the bug lady swept in for the kill.  Houston instantly quit crying because he realized, Hey, that didn't hurt afterall. The medical staff departed, quite enthusiastically, and the room was finally quiet for half a minute.  A nice reprieve from the last five minutes of screaming and/or crying from eight individuals simultaneously.  We all just sat there, catching our breath and re-hashing in our heads, what in the world just happened?!

Hayes broke the silence first.
"Hey, Mom, can I was my hands now?!"


Here's Our Stats:

Houston
54.5" tall  96%
92 pounds 97%

Holt
30.5" tall  75%
22.10 pounds  50%
49.5 head circumference  97%

Holt is 12 Months!!

So, we had a pretty busy month and I kind of neglected to write down your achievements from this last month.  And since I am writing this on the eve of your 13th month, that doesn't help much either.

Here's what I can say in all certainty...

Not much changed this month.  You're getting better at standing unassisted.  You're up to twenty seconds or so without falling down.  You like to practice walking while holding on to both of my hands.

You've become a bit of a food snob.  You no longer eat bananas.  I guess I've fed you too many of them over the last few months.  However, you love to throw the chopped up pieces on the floor.  Your brothers think it is hilarious.  In fact, this is what you do with all of your meal-time offerings that you decide not to eat.

You are drinking a few whole milk bottles a week as I am beginning to wean me and you from breastmilk.  You don't seem to care one bit which I'm not going to lie, saddens me a little.  However, it is great that this transition is easy for you.

You have perfected the 'stink eye'.  You are constantly furrowing your brow at things/people/situations that displease you.  I'm afraid that I taught you this because that was one of my silly faces that I used to flash you.  I just hope it doesn't sink all the way into your personality.  That could cost you a lot in therapy down the road.  Oops!

You're still a Mommy-addict.  We're in the process of searching for care groups to curb this pattern of behavior.  (sarcasm, people)  No really, but we are researching some kind of child seat hip implant.  We figured that would save my arms from falling off having to hold you all the time.  Unfortunately, the implant is only available on the black market as of yet.  Something about the titanium coating on the four inch bolts, that are manufactured in Taiwan, which have the ability to cause dysentery.

You're still not talking.  Not even Mama or Dada.  You make those sounds when you're babbling but it doesn't mean anything, yet.  Everything is 'eh' or 'uh'.  And if you really, really want something, it's 'eh, eh, eh".  I can't wait for verbal skills!  Well, at least, 'Mama'.

I guess I did a good job remembering afterall!  Your Dad and I, along with all your brothers, love you so, so very much.  We are so blessed to have you in our family.  I can't believe this first year has come and gone so quickly.  We look forward to this next year as we really get to see your personality begin to blossom.  You will learn to navigate the world on two feet and to speak up for yourself.  And trust me, around here, that is very important!  This next year will be full of so much adventure.  Just wish there was a way to slow it all down.

You are wonderful in every way and there is nothing your Dad or I would change about you!

Huey-ism: Bedtime Prayer

Houston said the bedtime prayer tonight.  He thanked God for important things like his brothers and Pokemon.  Then he said this jewel that melts a parent's heart...

"God, you are such an awesome God.  I don't think I could ever figure out how to make an elephant or a giraffe!"

Huey-ism: Finds from Schoolwork

At some point every week, each boy brings home about 500 sheets of paper with schoolwork for us to "keep at home".  I pilfer through it all and pick only the greatest of treasures to hold onto, since we'd have to rent a decent sized storage unit to keep it all.

This week, Houston's work, in the most classical Houston way, contained these golden nuggets...

Exhibit A
Apparently, he read a story in class that was set in a baseball field.  The main characters were Dad, Mom, and Ronald Morgan. The question on the school work read, "My favorite part was..."  To which Houston answered, "Win Ronald hit his Dad in the knee with a ball."

Nevermind a sweet family sharing an American pasttime.  Bodily harm.  The kid loves it. 

Exhibit B
I presume with the arrival of Fall, his class is discussing things related to the new season.  He brought home a list of three things he would do if he were a scarecrow.
   1.  scare the crows away dy making scary 'fases' (he still mixes up d's and b's)
   2.  watch the pumpkins so they would be safe
   3.  Make a 'nuter' scarecrow so I d't do all the wock
     Translation of #3:  Make another scarecrow so I don't do all the work
     (we have some trouble recognizing r sounds and haven't quite grasped all the acceptable contractions yet)

But the funniest thing is that he would replicate himself to share the work with.  But that is Houston in his purest form.  He is more the foreman/bossy/supervisory type.  However, boy's got a point, I mean, hanging on a stalk is exhausting and guaranteeing the safety of pumpkins is serious business!

Hawk-ism: Aging

This morning Hawkins, Holt, and I had the wooden block letters and numbers set out.  We like to practice learning with them.  He made a line of six blocks and wanted me to teach them to him.  Only one of his chosen blocks was blue.  I started with the block closest to me, which was not blue, "This is a 'V'.  V is for Victor."

Hawk:  No, Mom!  You have to start with the 'boo' one.  Always start with the 'boo' one first!
Me:  Okay.  The blue one is a 2.
Hawk:  I know that.  <giggles>
Me:  Are you 2?
Hawk nods his head
Me:  Oh!  I thought you were 3?!
Hawk:  <with head cocked to the side batting his eyelashes and very matter-of-factly>  I growed up!

Holt is 11 Months!!

Oh my goodness!  Just one short month before your first birthday.  I am filled with so much excitement and sadness all at the same time.  I look forward to you growing up because you will begin toddling and babbling.  But I also know that eventually means less cuddling and kissing.

*I guess we can now call you an official crawler.  You very rarely do the belly scoot anymore, just every once in a while when you think you can get somewhere faster salamander-style.

*You have been pulling up on things for forever but now you will let go and balance yourself for as much as three seconds before you drop to your bottom.  We're slightly off track with my goal for you to walk by Halloween.  But, it does seem that you might walk earlier than your older brother, Hawkins, did.  And that is a plus!  Besides, I only want you walking by Halloween because you can show off your costume better when you're not crammed in a stroller or wrapped around my hip.

*So I'm still totally your favorite.  Sadly, I haven't seen much plus to this fact.  It means you crawl all around the house hunting me down when I leave your sight.  Which, okay, is completely adorable.  Until you find me, that is.  As soon as you spot me, you instantly want to be held.  You make your wishes well known (commence incessant crying until baby gets what he wants).  Mind you, there is a room full of brothers and Daddy, any of whom would love to hold you, that you pass right by.  It's so severe now that if your brothers pull you two inches away from me, you immediately bust out.  If they put you right back, you immediately quit.

*You've learned to drink from a straw, which you now believe entitles you to anyone's drink with a straw.  And when you are denied things, such as Coke, you get very upset.  One day, I did cave and let you have some of my soda but you hated it and spit it right out.

*You love to play Pete and Repeat.  Basically, you make a noise, such as "eh" and then one of your audience members will repeat it in the exact same manner and pitch as you.  And we continue on and on.  It's so cute that it hasn't come close to getting old.

*You really kinda need a haircut.  But your precious hair is still so baby fine that I feel as though length = thickness and a trim would set us back a few months in the density department.

*When we go down to the park, you like to swing but you absolutely love, love, love to slide.  You like to attempt crawling up the baby slide.  Surprisingly enough, when you're in shorts, your feet/knees/hands are gummy enough that you can actually make it about halfway up.  But your favorite is sliding down, especially when Houston slides with you down the big tunnel slide.  When you reach the bottom, you giggle and squeal with joy.  I imagine that in a few months your squeal will be followed with "again, again!"

*You get into everything!  You leave a little wake of destruction behind you.  While your big brothers are at school, Hawkins loves to play with you.  He shares his super heroes / builder tools / trucks / anything that he's playing with at the moment.  He talks to you and tells you how to play correctly.  He also lets you know when you are not doing it right.  When your big bubbies come home, however, you get left on the side of the road.  All bets are off.  But that's when Houston swipes you up and loves and adores you.  Hayes always makes sure to come give you a hug and kiss.

*Have I mentioned yet that you poop all the time?!  Like, I sing praises when the diaper isn't dirty because it is such a rarity.

*You wake promptly between 6:30-7:00am every morning without fail.  Unless you're at Grammy's, of which your 9am mornings are of no benefit to me.  Anywho, you and Hawkins entertain each other for a good ten minutes before he makes his morning debut.  Then, I begin heating your bottle.  Once it is ready, I hand it to you and for the next 30 minutes, you are held captive in your crib.  You see, from 7:00-7:30am is massive chaos trying to get your big brothers dressed, fed, backpacked, and out the door to catch the bus.  If I set you free, there is too much commotion going on to drink your bottle!  Also, you always wake up with a stinkie and I literally do not have two extra minutes to stop and change you to avoid the potential for leakage onto the carpet.  Hence, confinement to the crib.  Some mornings you comply, other mornings you protest.

Holt is 10 Months!!

Since at your nine month check-up, your weight was calculated in the 25th percentile, your grandparents have made it their personal mission to fatten you up.  You've always looked thick and healthy but apparently, they believe that the numbers don't lie.  I'll bet you've gained at least two pounds in the last month, all courtesy of your loving grandparents.

When anyone says "Yaaaay!" you clap and then immediately smile, the big open mouthed one.

You now have two more top teeth which makes for a grand total of six teeth.

You have the most adorable little smirk face.  You squint your eyes, scrunch your nose, and grin ear to ear.

You're really starting to get around on two legs, with the assistance of a table, couch, etc.  You still aren't completely crawling on your knees yet, but you are beginning to use that mode of travel more and more.

You played peek-a-boo for the first time the other day.  It doesn't really count, since I was not around to witness it.  However, your Grammy, Papaw, and Daddy all insist that it happened and say it was the cutest thing ever!

You're officially an omnivore and now eat things like Lasagna with Meat Sauce, Chicken Noodle Dinner, and Ham with Pineapple.  You can eat an entire banana in one sitting.  We have yet to find something that you do not like.  You are such an eater!