Yesterday...Today

The older Emry gets, the more I actually see myself in her. Even though people say she looks like me, I’ve never really seen that. With dark hair and features and tiny everything, she simply doesn’t resemble the bleach blond average kid I was at her age. Or does she?

People say Ethan looks like Ed. I can see that as I think both kids take more after him. But it’s hard to say since I didn’t know Ed as a kid and the pictures we do have of him and very few and far between. But when we were looking at them this week…

Well, you can judge for yourself. 

Emry the ballerina in Aunt Katey’s old dance outfit.

Me and my sister Katey, 1985.

Emry and Ethan.

Me and Katey, 1982.

Little Ethan. 

 Little Ed, about 1977.

A very happy birthday to….

 Dad!

 

And now Grandpa!

Happy Birthday, Daniel!

Little Man

Yes, yes, yes. I blog about Emry an awful lot. And I still take more pictures of her than I do Ethan. Poor little boy. Such is the life of a second born. I’m discovering that my siblings were not all hot air in their complaints of my firstborn privileges…

Perhaps some of it is that we’ve seen it all before. Because no matter how unique each little child is, they all do more-or-less the same things. But I will say that Ethan is hitting each little milestone a whole lot faster than his big sister. Emry didn’t crawl until a week after she turned one. Ethan is five months and already up on his hands and elbows, rocking back and forth and pushing himself forward. While Emry is taking more and more interest in him, I have a feeling it won’t be long before she’s hoping he’ll go away and leave her things alone!

Of course I’m biased, but I think my little man is quite a handsome little thing. Ladies, keep your distance. He’s taken…my little man.

He loves to chew on his toes…

…and his bottom lip.

 Isn’t he a dashing fellow?

Connections

Emry’s at the age where learning something new is a daily thing. Those things can be anything from recognizing a diamond to successfully counting to twelve to some corny song that pops into Mama or Papa’s heads and then out of their mouths. As she learns more, she starts connecting one lesson with another. Sometimes these connections and her logic are hilarious.

While we were at my parents, Ed had Emry and her cousin Jay singing the old Adam West Batman tune while they swung on the swingset. (Probably brought on by Jay’s batman cape.) Well, in the last couple of weeks, she has been fascinated by pictures in a few of her books of Jesus on the cross. Although she doesn’t yet understand the concept of death, we talk about it and I explain to her that Jesus is good and should not have died on the cross. The two men on the other crosses are “bad man” being punished. Every time I said “bad man”, she started singing. I didn’t catch on at first…but then I had to explain that the two thieves were each a “bad man” not “Batman”.

We’re working with her in parking lots and crossing streets to hold on to one of our hands because, as I tell her over and over again, “It’s dangerous. The cars can’t see you.” Last week she put on her swimsuit after her nap and we went out to play in her little pool. It started to rain just a bit. Then we heard thunder off in the distance. She looked up at me, a bit startled. “It’s okay,” I told her. “Its just thunder. It’s a loud noise and can’t hurt you. But if we see lightning, we have to go inside. It’s dangerous.” She nodded her head sagely and replied, “The cars can’t see you.”

When I was a kid, I remember the hardest part of the ABC Song was “L-M-N-O-P”. It runs all together until it sounds like some strange word similar to “Monopoly” but all mixed up. I hated singing that part because I knew I didn’t do it right but I didn’t know how to fix it. Emry avoids this conflict entirely. She skips half the song and simply starts singing at the letter “Q”.

I swear there is something in the water in Pittsburgh. It makes these natives fiercely devoted boomerangs unable to see past the end of their nose. Ed despises all forms of “brainwashing” (media, public education, etc.) but somehow misses the fact that Pittsburgh has brainwashed him. I’m hoping to save my children from this horrific problem and yet… Emry can count to 12 without a beat, picks out at least half her letters and is quite decent with shapes. But colors! Most colors she does not know by name, but there are two she picks out every single time: yellow and black. The Pittsburgh colors. I think I’m doomed.

Emry - Growing Up

Even though I now have two kids, it seems I still blog more about Emry than Ethan. Perhaps because Emry is more photogenic than Ethan. Or because videos are better time capturers of Ethan currently (one cannot see making all the noises he does). Or, more likely, Emry is simply at that age where every day something new is learned or comes out of her mouth. And some of it is quite hilarious.

For example, we have been going to storytime at the library down the street on Thursday mornings the past couple of weeks. It only took one week for her to remember the library, walk right inside and march back to the children’s room to secure the bean bag she did not have the opportunity to obtain the week prior (but watched with envious eyes as the other kids sat on it).

Or the day she wanted to give Ethan his first piano lesson. (Not that she knows how to play, but she certainly knows how to find the recorded songs.)

Suntanning remains a little allusive. As you can tell, the sunglasses are in place. Ethan’s chair works well enough. The blanket, however…well, a dermatologist would be pleased.

And if the Jedi force doesn’t work, surely between Papa and herself the rock can be moved…

Yes, sometimes you just have to laugh. But do note: I do not take pictures of other 2-year-old moments that are not so adorable. Like having to get off the swing and go home…a “conniption” (as Ed calls it) that lasted nearly the entire 45-minute drive home (despite food, talks and other forms of much needed discipline).