A gift for Grandma

As has long been obvious, our dedication to this blog is no match for the demands of raising two children. So if you're unhappy about the infrequent updates, take it up with Ezra and Oliver. Since you seem to think they're so damn great.

I kid, of course. Mostly. The reason for today's rebirth of BlastOliver is the occasion of my (Gabe's) mother turning ... uh ... well ... having a birthday. Hooray! Happy birthday, Grandma! (I should mention that this thoughtful gesture was Ashley's idea).

As long as we're here, we might as well offer an update. Life is as frenetic as ever -- possibly more so, as Ash and I both have had especially demanding work schedules since late summer. The boys are doing great -- both healthy and often happy. Ezra still swings between being barely manageable and inducing aneurysms. But all along he is, of course, amazing. He still requires us to tell stories and role-play much of the day, but the subject matter has gotten a bit more sophisticated. He's into Star Wars at the moment (he's never seen the movies, but has picked up the plot through books and bedtime stories. Yes, we tell Star Wars bedtime stories). The interactions often focus on trying to convince Darth Vader and the Emperor that they should just be nice. I am heartened that, so far, this is generally his strategy with villains.

Oliver is positively blossoming right now. He's running around and has a couple dozen words. When I come home he tears across the apartment yelling "Hi Da Da! Hi Da! Hi Da!" It is the best homecoming I could imagine. He's also just started putting words together: principally, garbage truck. "Gaba ... cuck." He enjoys imitating our various guttural noises, and has begun to give kisses.

He loves to climb stuff and is alarmingly brave. Ezra was rambunctious at this age already, too, but unlike Ezra, Oliver will brazenly walk straight off a ledge without even looking down. We just removed our extra crib from the kids' rooms because Oliver was clearly using it to practice launching himself out. His sleep is still not perfect, but blessedly he is a great eater. That is a huge relief, and gives us hope that meals won't always be as stressful with Ollie as they were with his bro. He's also adopted a lovie -- a baby blanket, just like his old man. Of course he's cranky at times and is really starting to get into stuff, but mostly he's just brimming with exuberance and sweetness.

We managed to take a trip in September to California, seeing friends and attending the wedding of my old friend John (Ezra's godfather) and his vivacious bride, Angela. It was a whirlwind -- I think we stayed in five different places in just over a week. We were a fun-loving hobo family. This did allow us to, somehow, see most of the people we wanted to see, including friends from many different phases of our lives (Gabe's high school, Gabe's college, Ash's college, Ash's relatives, Ash's old work chums, etc.). A huge highlight for me was reuniting with four of my college roomates and their spouses, and meeting three of their offspring for the first time. We saw redwood trees (the boys swooned), rode cable cars (more swooning), ate really good Indian and Italian food, climbed hills, took in mountain vistas and generally made ourselves sick with nostalgia for the Bay Area.

Halloween was a success, though it was touch and go. Ash is ambitious in many of her endeavors, but it reaches epic proportions when it comes to homemade Halloween costumes (see last year's post re: construction crane). She is the Thomas Pynchon, the Christo, the Axl Rose of costumery. [Ed. (Ash): I have to interject here and say that nothing I've done comes close to the labor and creativity my mom put into our Halloween costumes, the best of which, I think, was a Miss Piggy head made out of papier mache, complete with fake eyelashes and blond wig.]

Anyway, we had big plans to build a robot costume for Ezra out of boxes, silver paint, dryer vent tubing and lots of buttons, dials and switches. We created a masterpiece, which Ezra was thrilled about until he put it on. We had engineered it with little thought given to comfort or ease of movement, and he immediately demanded it be removed. Crestfallen, we borrowed a store-bought dinosaur costume. On the evening of trick-or-treat, we desperately wanted him to wear it just long enough for a picture. He refused. So we did what any good parent would: we told him he could not have any candy unless he put it on. This proved effective. Then as soon as we showed him a picture of himself wearing the robot on our camera, he insisted on wearing it the rest of the night. He's still living off his candy haul.

Oliver was cute enough to pucker your heart in his borrowed, store-bought giraffe costume ... which leads me to question the energy expended on the robot project, rewarding though it was. We ate all of Ollie's candy within a day or so. Cut us some slack. He's one.

Anyway, way too much to report here, of course, but we are chugging along. We are trying to keep control of this insane family machine we are driving, and reminding ourselves to feel joy and wonder along the way. Here's to one more big happy birthday to Grandma from the Spitzer-Grosses -- we love you, Ma!

As ever,
Gabe, Ash, Ez and Ollie

The big 3

"I forgive you, Mommy."

Ezra said this to me as he quietly played with some tinker toys on the floor in the dining room. He said this to me by mistake - what he meant was that he wanted ME to forgive HIM. But he mixes it up. So when we're angry about him doing something naughty, as an act of contrition, he says that he forgives us. But today, the more I think about it, the more apt it is that he forgave me.

I worked for 45 minutes cooking bean quesadillas and rice, juggling a clingy baby and trying to keep Ezra occupied with messy glitter glue art projects. Then when I put the food down on the table, Ezra took one bite of rice and ran off to the living room. He wouldn't come back. I am not proud of this, but I kind of went ballistic. Grabbed him, raised my voice, sat his fanny back on the seat. Then purposefully gave him the silent treatment after he ran off again, grabbed his toys and then tried getting my attention with his little building project. Again, I'm not proud of this.

Then he told me that he was sorry. And that he forgave me. And my heart kind of melted a bit. But I was still angry. I just feel so lost - we want to raise him to be polite and to listen to us and follow the few rules that we have set (like everyone sitting down to meals together). But what do we do when he doesn't obey? We don't want to spank him. We don't really want to yell, but it's sometimes hard not to. I just know that yelling doesn't really result in anything. We try threats - no dessert, etc. But he always seems to wind up getting the better of us. And I'm terrified of being run over by a three-year-old who grows into a 5- or 7-year-old who is a complete brat. Book recommendations, anyone?

In the end, I guess today was somewhat successful in that I didn't give in to his demands for goldfish crackers an hour after lunch. I told him he could eat his lunch and that was the only option. He cried, wailed and then broke down and ate his rice. (Woke Oliver up prematurely from his nap with all his yelling - it was THAT kind of day.)

But back to the forgiveness. I felt lousy that I had lost my cool. It was terrible to see him get scared because I was so angry. So I'm grateful that he forgave me. And I guess I have forgiven him - but I really hope he cuts out this craziness soon!

Okay, enough of that. On to milestones:

Ezra got to celebrate not one, but two birthdays - his actual one (with cupcakes and balloons and presents) and his birthday party with friends this past weekend. He kind of ran around like a maniac, begging for his cake, tearing open each present as soon as people walked in the door (at a certain point we gave up trying to figure out who had given him what!). But he had fun and so did his friends, I think. We meant to have it at a park like last year, but the heavens opened up an hour before the party and we held it indoors.

Now that he's a big three-year-old, potty training is well underway. We were staring at a hard deadline - Sept. 12th is the first day of preschool, and he has to be out of diapers. So we unleashed Operation Jelly Bean, which worked great for a while. Then he got sick and didn't feel like having candy, so we've let that fall by the wayside. Mostly he's pretty good about remembering to pee, but he hates to do it when he doesn't think he needs to - like before going out of the house. And he despises washing his hands. Argh. We need some fun, silly soaps to get him inspired again. Truthfully, the accidents have been few, so it's mostly a big relief. There was one funny moment recently - He was doing some art project at the dining room table and Oliver was standing by his chair and I saw something dripping down onto the floor. I said, "Where's that water coming from?" and without even turning to look up from his project, Ezra said, "It's not water. It's pee." Um, okay. Thanks for letting me know.

I hate to say that Ezra is exasperating me and Oliver is an angel, but it kind of feels that way these days. Ollie is off-the-charts cute right now.* At about 10 months, he said his first word: cat. Then he added car, hot, hi and da. (no 'ma' yet.) And now his favorite thing to say is "quack, quack." He's climbing all over the place - the other day I left him for a moment in the living room while I went to the kitchen, came back and saw him trying to get up into the windowsill from the little kid table. Gulp.

While we were visiting my parents on Martha's Vineyard, he learned to go backwards down a stair. He kept practicing on one little stair that separated the kitchen from a den. He'd go down, climb back up, carefully turn his body and go down again, all while we coached him, "Go backwards! Go backwards!" He must have done it 15 times in one day. Then later that day, I was holding him talking to my mom and telling her about how he had learned to go backwards and he started squirming in my arms to go down. Then he crawled, bulldog-style, to the stair, turned around and went down it backwards. He heard me and wanted to show off!

He finally got his first tooth at 11 months and likes running his tongue over it when we talk about his tooth. A second one is in the process of coming in. Yay! It will be nice to give him food that requires chewing. And he's about to really walk any day now. The past few days he's been taking about 3 steps unassisted before losing his balance. But he is motivated and it won't be long till he's ambulating.

We have transitioned to a new babysitter - Becca. Ezra seems to really like her and Oliver is still getting adjusted. The nice thing is that she comes to our place, so we have a lot less driving. But we do miss Najiba - in spite of all her quirks. So we had her babysit for us on Saturday night and it really touched me to see her cuddle Oliver and how he went to her so easily and burrowed his head in her chest. We feel lucky to have had someone taking care of them who loved them so much. She can't drive, and we need someone to drive Ezra to preschool, otherwise we probably would have kept her on.

Anyway... whew, that's a lot. Congratulations to anyone who read to the end of this.

Lots of love,
Ashley, Gabe, Ezra & Oliver

*Completely unbiased and scientifically verifiable conclusion.

Let Us Raise Our Sippy Cups

Here are the things I (Ash) should be doing right now: 1) sleeping. 2) washing dishes. 3) slogging through hours of tape for a feature I need to write this week. But I feel compelled (FINALLY) to update the blog to share with you all of Oliver's latest achievements, most of which seem to have come in the last 2 1/2 weeks.

He's now a champion crawler - motoring down the hallway with the intensity of a bulldog. Usually he's motoring after Zoe the cat. She's amazingly patient with him - way more tolerant than of Ezra these days, for example. Ezra seems to have crossed a clear threshold in her mind from innocent baby who doesn't know what's what to a potential terrorist threat. Ezra now steers a wide berth and says, "Zoe, don't scratch me."

Ollie is so much more his own person these days. And the most exciting thing is that he's really starting to communicate. Just in the past couple of days he's learned how to clap and to lift his hands over his head in response to "How big is Oliver? So big!" and wave at people. And check out his mad sippy cup skillz (on YouTube):

Ezra, meanwhile, is still sending us on this emotional rollercoaster that I guess is par for the course with a two-year-old. He delights us with a lot of the things he says (He recently picked up Oliver's sippy cup, which had a stopper in it to prevent it from pouring out too fast. He tried to take a swig and then put it down in disgust. "Can I have some of your water? Mine sucks very not good." Then after we pulled out the stopper: "Oh, it sucks very good!").

But at the same time, every tiny thing can turn into a stalemate not seen since the Battle of Verdun. I've had a couple of harrowing moments crossing a major intersection with him throwing his body back in the stroller as he extricates his legs and arms from the straps - while I tilt the stroller back to just the rear wheels to just try to keep him in it till we're safely across the street. Of course he's screaming the whole time this is going on. "I WANT TO WALK!!!!!!"

And he's showing selective interest in using the potty, which we should be very excited about, except that it's usually only right before bed, when he needs to pee about 20 times in a row. Or he wakes up before 6 am yelling that he has to pee in the potty. I'm happy he can make it all night without wetting his diaper, but could he make it another half hour, maybe?

He's growing up, fast. His Uncle Josh just bought him his first bike! He doesn't quite get the whole pedaling thing, and Josh was working on teaching him how to steer. But I know he'll get lots and lots of enjoyment out of that bike before long.

We have so many pictures to share since we last posted - but definitely have to share one of Ollie and baby Jonah! We got to hang out with Jonah and his mama, Denise Gelb, along with Brian and Simon Gelb, while Josh was in town.

All in all, I've found myself going a little bit bonkers lately, especially on the days home alone with the two of them. Oliver's sleep has continued to be pretty lousy, so now we're going whole hog back into sleep training mode. The most frustrating thing for me is trying to get him to take naps. I would try and try to get him to fall asleep and instead of falling asleep while nursing, he'd pop up wired and wanting to play. And each time I'd try to get him to sleep I'd have to use the "second mommy" - aka TV or YouTube - to keep Ezra entertained. And I don't like having to use that too much, so then I'd start to sink into a pit of despair. It sounds ridiculous - why should I feel bleak and despairing just because a baby won't nap? I think it's just accumulated sleep deprivation for me and guilt that I'm not managing to get Oliver the rest he needs... anyway, today he did take two naps, hooray, and went to sleep tonight with hardly any crying. So as Gabe says, "We've definitely got this parenting thing sorted out. Smooth sailing from here."

Love,
Ash, Gabe, Ezra & Oliver

(Here is some internal record-keeping for my own sake, since this is the only baby book we're keeping. Oliver started pulling himself forward on his belly at 6 1/2 months, getting pretty fast and flopping forward as if he were doing the butterfly in a dry swimming pool. At 9 months, he got the hang of real crawling. At 8 months, he pulled himself up to standing. Now in just the past couple of days, he sidles along tables, holding on. Still no teeth! And not a lot of babbling. Maybe he'll be the strong, silent type.)

Whoa, Nelly

Wow. I really don't want to turn this blog into a "woe is me" saga, but holy cow, every time I think we have a handle on things, the kids grow and change and start doing things we are totally not prepared for.

For example: Ezra has now figured out that stepstools and his little kid-size chairs are his friends. He can haul them wherever he wants in the house to open up a whole new dimension to his world - anything higher than 3 feet. So we'll be busy doing something and see him out of the corner of our eyes purposefully dragging his little blue Ikea chair across the apartment to get to stuff on the kitchen counter. Stuff like sharp knives, scissors, lighters, you know, perfect preschool-age toys like that.

PLUS, he has now turned our world completely upsidedown by learning how to climb out of his crib. So now he refuses to nap. Even though he needs to. Desperately. (Thankfully - and believe me, we know this is temporary - he hasn't been climbing out at bedtime yet.) So that hour-and-a-half-long break that I (Ash) need on the days I'm home with him has evaporated. And the rest of the day often involves multiple bouts of uncontrollable crying. (Mostly on his part, but I can't say I'm not often on the verge).

I guess what I'm starting to really come to grips with is that he's an autonomous person. We can't force him to do every last thing we want him to. Not that I want some pliant blob of a child. But it's hard giving up old habits and routines with him and venturing into the unknown world of no naps and him having access to a whole lot of stuff we never worried about before.

Still, he's astounding us all the time with things he's learning to say and the kinds of conversations he can carry on. Yesterday, when I picked him up at his nanny Najiba's house, a relative of Najiba's had just dropped by her house. He chatted with Ezra about Ezra's plans to become an astronaut when he grows up. (Don't tell him NASA is ending the space shuttle program.) Then on the way out of Najiba's house, Ezra said, "He's nice. I told him I want to be an astronaut. I'm going to tell Daddy when he gets home and he's going to think that's hilarious." Or he uses words that just sound so bizarre coming out of a two-year-old's voice - for example, looking at a picture book, "Oh, I didn't realize that was a pig."

And Oliver - wow, what a difference a few weeks make. He now rolls over and over in a corkscrew maneuver and can cover some serious ground. AND he's starting to pull himself forward and use his knees in the very beginning stages of a crawl. Seeing him learn how to use his body so well makes him seem way more grown-up and, well, human. He's also watching the world very carefully and pays a lot of attention when we point things out to him. He loves to watch our cat, Zoe, and gets a big grin on his face every time we say, "See the cat? The cat says, 'meow'". And his favorite person to watch, bar none, is Ezra. Check out the video I'm posting (and forgive the shaky quality - something got weird in the editing.)

He's also started solids, but not with a great deal of enthusiasm so far, as you can tell from the pic.

The sleep battle is ongoing. We actually are temporarily throwing in the towel on the "sleep training" because it didn't seem to be having any effect after a week and a half and was causing heartache to everyone within earshot. (Sorry, Dad, especially.) The alternative isn't great because he wakes up every couple of hours and needs to nurse to be able to fall back asleep, but one of these years he'll get the hang of sleeping through the night. I presume.

Both sets of grandparents visited and showered the boys with love and presents. We can't wait till they come back again (and Grandma, that's not just because of your chocolate chip cookies, but if you bring more, let's just say, we won't be sad).

Oh, and I almost forgot to write about one sublimely sweet thing that I never want to forget - lately right before we say goodnight to Ezra in his crib, he kisses us on the mouth, nose, eyelids, forehead, hair and ears. I can't think of anything sweeter in the whole world.

Love and smooches,
Ash, Gabe, Ezra, Oliver and Zoe (who says, "meow!")

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

Hi everyone - Mom here. Gabe's been battling some writer's block when it comes to the blog, so I'm jumping in, since I am not as particular of a wordsmith. :-)

Let me explain the title. Averaged out, life is very good these days. But the pendulum swings pretty damn far into despair and then into joy and then back into despair and then... you get the idea. There are two big reasons for that - Ezra is two years old, and we're doing "sleep training" with Oliver. That's a truly terrible euphemism for something more akin to breaking a wild stallion.

Here are some joyous moments - watching Gabe hoist Oliver in the air as he shrieks with giggles, me dancing the hokey pokey in front of him as he laughs his head off, Ezra cracking us up multiple times a day with the crazy things that come out of his mouth... for example, on the first day we sent Oliver with Ezra to our nanny Najiba's house, we asked Ezra a few separate times, "Did Oliver cry at Najiba's house?" After the last such question, Ezra stuck out his hand in exasperation at Gabe and said, "I told you FOUR TIMES already, Daddy!" (It's hilarious to see a toddler affect the resentful ennui of a teenager.) And then there's the time that will probably become family legend after a pretty unsuccessful lunch trying to get Ezra to eat a ham and cheese sandwich. Gabe was then doing the naptime singing routine when Ezra bounced up in the crib saying, "Shit! I forgot to eat my ham! I forgot to eat my ham!" (Oops. I guess little pitchers DO have big ears.)

Here are some bleaker moments - listening to Oliver howl at the top of his lungs for more than an hour and a half in the middle of the night a couple of nights ago as we imposed the "Ferber method" on him - checking in after increasingly long intervals of time till he falls asleep. After so many sleep issues with Ezra, we had really hoped we had been cut a break with #2, and on the whole, he is a better sleeper than Ezra was. But we were having the same issue crop up - he wasn't able to fall back asleep without nursing, and that meant that I had to sleep all night in the La-Z-Boy with him attached to me. Now actually, I don't really mind this because I love sleeping with him so close. But I can't go to bed every night at 8 pm, which is what he needs. But tonight - knock wood - things have gone a lot smoother and we're hoping that the worst may be behind us. It's absolutely the worst feeling in the world to go into his room and see him crying his eyes out. I waver every single time on whether it's the right thing to do or not. But I can say for sure that it helped Ezra's sleep and our own sleep and that I'm 99% sure Ezra's not worse for wear.

As for bleaker moments with Ezra - one is that he shrieks at the top of his lungs when he doesn't get his way. We have some work to do in the discipline department. On the flight home from New Mexico, when we discovered we hadn't charged the DVD player, he let out a blood-curdling scream that instantly turned us into the plane pariahs. Then Oliver started crying, cementing that status. We're trying very hard to teach Ezra good manners, but no one would be able to tell that at the supermarket, where people three aisles over can hear him yelling/whining, "I NEED THAT, MOMMY! I NEED THAT!" or "I WANT A LOLLIPOP, MOMMY!" (A pox upon our local grocery store for giving away free lollipops).

I'm also sad to say that we've allowed Ezra's brain to rot a bit in front of the TV and YouTube. Up until he turned two, we were pretty much a no-TV family. But it's proven to be a seductively easy way to harness his energy when we need a bit of a break, or have to put Oliver down for a nap, or finish making dinner. It's definitely tough to put that genie back in the bottle. The worst is when he's nagging to watch a Thomas the Tank Engine video or Schoolhouse Rock cartoons on YouTube and you're just tired and out of ideas for keeping him entertained. I always feel a bit depressed sticking him in front of the tube. But when we put on Schoolhouse Rock or vintage Sesame Street clips or footage of space shuttle launches, I don't feel quite so bad.

That said, his imagination is as alive as ever. Ezra's pushing the boundaries of our creativity in ways we never expected. He demands that we tell him stories almost from the minute he wakes up till he goes to bed. Of course, we could tell him no, and we do sometimes, but it's gotten to almost be fun (when you're not feeling utterly braindead, like right after work or at 6 am). It's kind of like improv theater. He'll throw something out there - like, "I want a sock tree story!" and we have to think on our feet to come up with some halfway entertaining tale involving a tree and socks. The sock theme is a particularly weird one, and stems from a character named Andrew Sockman (think Long Island Jewish) whom Gabe created. Some of our stories are LAME, LAME, LAME, but he doesn't seem to mind, and other times, we're kind of proud of them and think we should write them down. But of course, we never do. :-)

When we were in Santa Fe, we outsourced a lot of the storytelling to Katy and Lisa. Please come visit, aunties! We could use your imaginations!

Love,
Ash, Gabe, Ezra and Oliver

P.S. The bottom pic is with Jonah Herman, Denise Gelb's baby boy (who is just 6 weeks older than Oliver)... we hope to take time-lapse pics of them as they grow up.