Home of the Elio Family 

The Natural Superiority of Siblings

First of all, I'm still pregnant. Thanks to all who have sent multiple emails inquiring. Yup, still huge and pregnant.

Sorry it's been so long. I don't know WHY I haven't written an article; I mainly alternate between sitting around all day and power-walking with Katie to try to induce labor. Oh, and there have been some days of some horrific concoctions involving castor oil, herbs, and old-wives-tale activities that, trust me, you don't want to hear about.

Connor's new favorite book is "A Child Is Born." His new favorite show is TLC's "A Baby Story." I can't imagine what's been on his mind lately. LOL Anyway, Connor has become indignant and even a little paranoid that there exist in this world, horrific as it seems, actual people who think that their kids are the most wonderful in the world and would not consider his siblings to be the most wonderful. For example, when watching the Baby Story, he's very interested until the very end, when the mother usually reflects on life with her new baby. Connor looks fondly on the scene until the mother says something like, "I just can't believe he's mine, that we created him. He's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen." Connor then snorts and says, "Mommy, I think that that mommy thinks her baby is better than our babies. I think she loves that baby more than she loves Riley Katie! I think she loves him even more than our NEW baby!" I repeatedly explain to him during these tirades, "Connor, every Mommy thinks her baby is the cutest and best, and probably all big brothers think that their little brothers and sisters are the best." He always replies, "Yeah, except that THEY'RE wrong."

For an explanation for this behavior, I'd have to point to genetics. Let me take you back a few years, to Chris's first days of fatherhood. Chris, as the youngest child in his family, was never around babies when he was young. When his nephew was born, he was in college and didn't really participate in day-to-day goings-on in his life. So babies, as well as the opinions and instincts of new parents, were also quite new to him when Connor was born. From the moment he saw Connor, Chris felt that Connor was just OBJECTIVELY the best baby in the world; it never occurred to him that he felt this way because he was Connor's father. Fast forward to Connor at thirteen months old. Chris and I decided to leave him with a babysitter and go on a date night (yes, it took thirteen months; as new parents, we were also unaware that people other than ourselves were capable of caring for our child for short stretches of time). We took the train into the city to see a show. On the way there, a man across from us overheard Chris talking about Connor, and began talking about his own son. Chris said, "You should see MY son; he's so cute and smart." The man nodded and said, "Yeah, I love that age; my son is just saying such neat things and he's so cute..." Chris explained, "No, seriously, you should see my son. He's the cutest, smartest kid EVER. Not just a LITTLE cute; he's REALLY REALLY the cutest kid I've ever seen, and I've seen alot of kids." I was MORTIFIED. So anyway, I guess it's not hard to follow the trail and discover where Connor may have gleaned the idea that his siblings are just OBJECTIVELY cuter, nicer and sweeter than all other babies in the world.

Rory has been spending his days joined to me at the hip. I am secretly really, really happy at this turn of events. In the past, he's been a little stand-offish with his affections, but lately he's been much more lovey and cuddly, saying, "You're a great boy, Mommy!" Whatever the gender mistake, I'm grateful for the sentiment. We're also very impressed at how much he seems to enjoy being Rory Elio. He definitely does not want to be anyone else, and panics when he feels that his pretend play has convinced us that he is indeed someone other than himself. Connor can take a character's story line to the hilt, eating breakfast, lunch and dinner as Spiderman or Mr. Incredible, but Ror opts out of pretend play the moment that he feels he's convinced someone else that he's not Ror. He usually begins with, "Hi, Miss Colleen, I'm Spiderman!" I reply with enthusiasm, "Hi, Spiderman! Oh my gosh, I can't believe you're here! You're my HERO!" He interjects, "Do you see who I am under this mask?" I gamely answer, "Peter Parker!" At this point, one of two things happen. He either goes along with the Peter Parker bit until he can't take it any more, or he shrieks in a distressed tone, "NO! I'm your RORY BOY! It's me, RORY ELIO! RORY! Not Peter Parker! Mommy, it's MEEEE!" Sometimes he's a ferocious dinosaur, but as soon as I feign the smallest bit of fear, he panics-- "No, no, Mommy! It's just Rory! I'm pretending! I'm still Rory Elio!"

Our little princess is 21 months today and can't wait to see her new sister. Last week Katie showed her how to change a diaper using a doll as a model, and she's really anxious to try out her new skills on the baby (saints preserve us!). Katie's been spending alot of time at our house, waiting for the baby to show up, and while all of the kids seem a little put-off by the idea that Katie has a life of her own that she sometimes has to return to, Riley Kate is the most miffed and insulted by this. She wakes up and says, "Where's my Katie?" and reacts quite angrily when we tell her that Katie had to go to work so she can earn money. It's really amazing to see how much children at this age change so quickly. She's suddenly talking in paragraph form, singing songs with real words, and trying to "help" around the house. It's so sweet to hear her say, "Where's Rory and Connor? I go play?" Of course, it's important to remember those moments of sweetness when later I come upon her screaming at her brothers for looking at her the wrong way or not immediately giving up a toy that she wants.

Hopefully, my next article will be a BIRTH STORY! :)

Baby Psycho

I've come down with that familiar condition again. Baby-Psycho. I coined the phrase myself. I think it's very eloquent. Though this feels like my worst case, I'll have to objectively admit that my worst case was probably with Connor. Baby-Psycho is characterized by an inability to think or talk about anything but the new baby, an overwhelming desire to see the new baby, getting teary at the sight of something as innocuous as a newborn-sized diaper, and a secret compulsion to look on the internet for weird concoctions that promise to get you in labor as soon as possible. Don't worry, I won't try any of them till 37 weeks. I haven't gone totally over the edge yet. When I was pregnant with Connor, though, I knew when I'd finally be meeting him, because I had a scheduled induction. This didn't really stop me from obsessing, though. I remember sitting in the nursery and just staring at the crib, trying to make a baby magically appear. Chris got seriously scared for my mental state one day when he came home and I had cut out a picture of a newborn and placed it on the bouncy seat, just so I'd be able to picture what it would look like when a baby came out. I had Baby-Psycho with Ror, too, but at least I had Connor to distract me, so it wasn't as severe as with my first pregnancy. With Riley Kate, I was consumed with Ror being in the hospital-- so much so that I had the opposite of Baby-Psycho. I had Baby-Denial. My water broke while I was sitting by Ror's bedside, and I thought, "Holy Cow, I just peed my pants!" The nurse came in and I repeated myself, and she said, "Honey, you're having a baby. Do you really think you could pee that much?"
But this time, whoa. Onset has occurred earlier than ever before. I've still got 2 weeks before I'm considered full term (37 weeks), and three weeks after that before I'm even "overdue." And I even have a never-before-seen symptom. I swear, when I look at pictures of newborns, it makes my uterus hurt. I can't take it anymore. I want to see the baby.
The children are not helping. As a matter of fact, they're exacerbating my mania. All they want to talk about are their big-sibling duties, the fun they'll have, how much they'll help, and how many kisses they will give the new baby. It's maddening. Just when I get myself really into a good game of Story-Chain with Connor and begin to be able to take my mind off of the baby, he interrupts with, "Hey, want me to kiss your tummy? I think my new baby sister wants me to talk to her!" Ror tends to spend alot of time shouting into my belly button and sticking his eye right up to it, trying to peer in and see her. Riley Kate is preparing by "mommy-ing" her dollies. She also does a very unflattering impersonation of me, during which she sticks out her tummy, puts one hand on her back, and waddles around, saying, "baby in the tummy. come out?"
Last week after my midwife appointment, the kids did give us a laugh that distracted me, for a little while, at least. We went out to lunch, and I mentioned the name of Katie's goddaughter, who is Connor's age. Connor asked, "Who's Jillian?" I explained, "Jillian is Katie's goddaughter. You know, it means that Katie is her Godmom, like Katie is Ror's Godmom." Ror asked incredulously, "Katie is my Katiemama?" Connor replied dryly, "No, Ror, she's your Sugarmama." Even after lengthy prodding, he still couldn't recall where he'd heard the phrase "sugarmama" before, but we sure got a kick out of it.
Riley Kate has reached a new level of shrillness that can only be described as stratospheric. But we're impressed, because it's mainly in response to someone tweaking her maternal instincts by putting her "baby" in the toy bag or out of her reach, which we feel is a good sign for our future grandkids. She's very focused on keeping an eye out for all of her baby's needs, whether they be a diaper change, a baby bottle (fed through either the mouth or eyeball), or a nice walk around the playroom during which she drags Maddie by the ankle. She has departed from OUR preferred parenting style and apparently sees a great deal of value in corporal punishment, because in recent days Maddie has taken a few lickings. But let Riley Kate see you attempt to put Maddie on the shelf or in the hands of Rory, and you'll hear a shrieking, "MY BABY! MY BABY! AAAAAGH! EEEEE! MY BABY! I WANT MY BABY!" Poor Paul, Maddie's twin (they're the Bitty Twins, from American Girl), gets no such preferential treatment. He occasionally gets some attention from Ror or Connor in the form of being the chosen victim of a dinosaur attack, but only once in a while does Riley Kate give him the nurturing that she gives Maddie.
The boys no longer wear regular clothing around the house, but prefer to traipse around in Halloween Costumes from this year or last. This morning Chris had a rather startling beginning to his day when he woke to find Spiderman, in full costume, leering over him. It's not uncommon to find a scary combination of The Thing's body wearing a Spiderman mask and Buzz Lightyear boots, battling a Mr Incredible who has crossed to the dark side and is bearing a light saber while protecting his head with a Buzz Lightyear helmet and Mickey Mouse sunglasses. As a matter of fact, Mr. Incredible himself has just arisen from his nap and demands my attention. TTFN.

Connor Learns to Flip the Bird

Oh my gosh, I am so tired. I'll bet I'm going into labor tonight, just because I'm so tired, I won't be able to handle it. What a positive attitude! LOL

Just finished hostessing a Halloween party for a house full of third graders. I feel like I'm going to keel over. But it was all worth it when our very own little third grader said after the party, "That was the best party I ever went to, and I can't believe it was MINE! I never had a party before, not even for my birthday! I can't believe this! I want to say thank you, over and over!" It was also his first ever Halloween costume, so he's on cloud nine. Well, in reality, he's in his bed, conked out already, sleeping IN his costume.

On to our big story of the night-- Connor flipping the bird.

Katie arrived about three hours before the party, and foolishly walked into the room where Connor was supposed to be napping, so he snagged her into a conversation. His great opener: "Want to see something REALLY BAD?" So of course, Katie replied, "Sure!" Up went his middle finger, and he waited in suspense for her shocked expression. She asked, "Who taught you that?" He replied, "No one taught me." She pressed, "Connor, someone had to teach you that. Who taught you?" He insisted, "No one." She told him that it's not a nice thing to do, and left the room, leaving behind a perplexed Connor.

Katie then came upstairs and told me what he had done. I felt lightheaded! Who had taught him this? I flew down to the bedroom and demanded details. Connor looked very confused. He insisted that no one had taught him. I said, "If you want to go to the party this afternoon, I need to know." He insisted that no one had taught him, but that several people had asked to see it. I asked who. He looked away, thinking. "I think Rory asked to see, like five times." I began to lose my temper. "Connor, you are telling a lie. I know that one of the big boys told you to do it; now which one?" He thought for a moment. "Well, I think every single one of them wanted to see, but mostly Nasir." I was off and running. "I am cancelling this party! I cannot believe this! When was he even alone with you? Why did he do this?" Connor got a little angry. "I don't think that's fair, Mommy. Don't cancel his party. It IS really bad, and he just wanted to see it. Daddy wanted to see it too."

HE HAD A BIG CUT ACROSS HIS DARN FINGER! EVERYONE KEPT ASKING TO SEE HIS BOO-BOO, so he showed it to Katie, saying, "Look, it's really bad!"

I went upstairs and told Katie what he had meant by "Want to see something really bad," and we collapsed in the living room in fits of laughter for quite a while. We felt a bit foolish.

Then, of course, Chris came home fifteen minutes later and we began to tell him the story, and he said, "Wait a minute. Is this about the cut on his finger???"

And so ends another eventful day in the Elio Household.

The Jesus King of Everything Album Collection

I should start by saying that articles have been less frequent because my brain has shrunken. Each time I sit down to pontificate on the overall hilarity of life with my kids, I draw a blank. I think this kid’s so huge that she’s now actually squeezing out room for my brain. (I shouldn’t joke; my friend Kate recently pushed out a twelve-pound kid, and I don’t want to tempt fate.) But anyway, I also have a whole slew of new pictures to post, of pumpkin painting, and of course, my newest “Watch Colleen Grow” picture, and I promise to post the photos tonight, around nine. I’m also trying to come up with a new title for the “grow” album, because I think something like “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Colleen Elio!” would be more appropriate. Or maybe we’ll just change the title to show the Green Peace logo.

Connor has become quite the songwriter. He's only writing religious songs, though, and they're all pretty weird. Every single one is called "Jesus King of Everything" and has a number attached to distinguish it from the others-- "Mom, do you want to hear 'Jesus King of Everything 1' or 'Jesus King of Everything 7'? Or, I could sing 'Jesus King of Everything and His Mom'. Whichever you want." The song stylings range from upbeat, baptist-style ditties, with lyrics like "Oh, I can't believe Jesus gave me such a happy life with my happy Mommy and my great Dad and my nice brother [clap clap clap]..." to decidedly gothic lyrics, like, "[makes weird hissing and beat-boxing noises with his mouth] Jesus wants us all to get old so we can be happy in Heaven, but we're gonna have to die first, so don't work for the devil, because that's not good news..." Alrighty then. Perhaps we need to fine-tune the religious education aspect of his home schooling.

Ror is, I have to admit, the apple of my eye these days. All of the kids entertain me constantly, but Ror is just completely hilarious with his stunts and comments. Last night we painted pumpkins, and he hummed a little tune as he mixed every conceivable color combination into a muddy soup, and then gave a detailed description of the final masterpiece: “It’s a dinosaur, saying ROAR! And a spider with all the colors, and he bites the friend, and the friend is ME!” He says it in such a hurried, breathless, suspenseful way that one can’t help but burst into laughter (which annoys him to no end, of course). He’s also started peppering his speech with phrases like “Actually,” and “Well, we’ll see.” As Mammam would say, “He talks like an old man!” Yeah, an old man with the climbing ability of a monkey. His athleticism really freaks us out, given that neither Chris nor I are exactly ready to try out for the Olympic games. He continues to escape from the crib at night (which is why Santa plans to break down and bring a big boy bed for Christmas) and, frankly, can beat the living daylights out of his older brother when he feels it’s necessary—just for serious offenses, though, like sassing Mommy or suggesting that Gilbert is better than Hero-Chicken. Otherwise, he’s a gentle giant.

Riley Kate has been spending her days giving orders, as usual. I don’t think we can describe her as anything but spoiled. People actually stop us in stores now to comment on the withering glances she gives in response to baby talk. Passersby will say, “Aren’t you the cutest little thing? Are you helping Mommy shop? Is the little bitty cutie helping Mommy shoppy-woppy?” Upon hearing the syrupy tone, her eyebrows go down, her eyes narrow to slits, and she clearly sends a message, and that message is, “I am burning a hole in your head with my eyes. How dare you speak condescendingly to me, you fool!” Then the stranger invariably says something like, “Oh MY! I made her MAD! Look at that GLARE!” We try to walk away quickly to diffuse the situation before she starts rotating her head 360 degrees or spitting green goo or any other unpleasantness that would indicate demonic possession. My only possible explanation for the hostility is that people do tend to think that she’s a lot younger than she is because of her size (and sometimes even say things like, “wow, she’s really SMALL!”), and because she now talks, most members of the household have dropped the baby talk and expect her to answer regularly phrased questions. Maybe she feels insulted?

The kids are all basically spending their days anxiously awaiting the birth of the newest member of the family and providing us with fun and non-stop activity every minute of the day. They all enjoy yelling into my belly button, “Come on out, baby sister!” and employing other productive strategies to help the time pass faster. Who knows if any of their techniques will indeed urge our little elf to arrive on schedule, but in any case, the anticipatory sense of Advent is particularly real for us this year!

WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY CAMERA?!?

Please take note of the title. Then click on the photo link, and look at the latest pictures. If anyone would like to take a stab at what is wrong with my camera and what settings I need to readjust, I'd be eternally grateful; please email me or leave a comment.

So, let's see... No agenda for today as far as kid stories. Trying to remember what they've done lately.

Well for starters, Hero-Chicken escaped again recently and was apprehended after 24 hours by Connor, who thought he was Gilbert. Apparently Connor had no plans to notify Chris of Hero's escape (that's Ror's responsibility, after all, and his parental negligence if he wants his hamster running around at all hours), but thinking that Gil was on the loose, came to get Chris, who found Hero lurking behind Ror's dresser.

Connor and Ror are totally obsessed with our new diaper genie. We've always lived on one-floor houses, so I never really saw the point of a diaper pail when I could just take a dirty diaper to the trash outside. But now that I have to haul my 164-pound (EGADS!) tushy up a whopping five stairs to go to the trash from the nursery, I felt it was time. So now Connor and Ror are always having these phantom dirty diaper sightings-- "Hey! I think Lolly needs a diapee change! I'll come with you! I'll twist it!" "No, I'LL TWIST IT! It's MY TURN!" "No, ME!" Then they ooh and ahh over the "magical genie" that makes the diapers disappear. Silly Mommy and Daddy have been buying toys these last five years; we could've been buying diaper pails.

As most people know, Connor has become a Zoobook aficionado because Grandmom bought him a subscription, and when the latest magazine arrived the other day, he begged me to read it to him, and promptly filed all of the minute facts in his head. I didn't realize how bizarre he sounds when he talks about it, until at dinner someone said something like, "Pass the salt" and Connor responded with, "Birds of prey have hollow bones so they can carry the animal they're trying to eat! How 'bout THAT? Cool, huh?" And Kenny replied, "Ah, a weird and random comment from Connor. Your zoo magazine must have arrived today," which really cracked me up.

The teacher in the play place at the gym complimented us today on Riley Kate's clean-up skills, telling us she's never seen a baby so willing and enthusiastic about cleaning up her toys. So our plan, to have zillions of children and slowly enslave them into manual labor while we sit around and eat bon-bons, is going right on schedule.

Riley Kate and Ror have locked horns once again in the eternal love-hate sibling rivalry that has become the hallmark of their relationship. One minute, Ror is sitting in the car, saying, "Lolly LOVES me! She's my BEST FRIEND!" and the next minute he's screaming, "It's not FUNNY, so stop LAUGHING, Lolly! Mommy, Lolly's LAUGHING at me ! BAD CHOICE! BAD CHOICE, Lolly!" For her part, Riley Kate alternates between hugging him and attempting to give him welts on his arm with her quite virile pinching ability.

I'm off for an exciting afternoon of Kindergarten mathematics-- if we have three bunnies but just two chairs, how many bunnies won't get a chair?

Shopping With Connor

I took Connor to the mall with me earlier in the week, to shop for Chris's birthday gifts. My first mistake was telling him in advance that we were going to shop for gifts, because it gave him ample time to become very determined in his own idea of what Chris would like for his birthday. We had no sooner set foot in the mall before Connor listed his plans: "I'm getting Daddy three things. I'm getting him a beach ball, a Toronto Bluejays shirt, and one of those things you hang over your bed that has the planets on it." I didn't even know where to begin my line of questioning to find out why he had picked these three items, so I started with the beach ball. He explained, "Well, Daddy always wants to play ball in the house, and it's not really safe, so I'll get him a beach ball, so he can play more safely." Fair enough. But why a Toronto Bluejays shirt? "Mom, don't you know? The Toronto Bluejays are Daddy's favorite team now. He loves them better than the Mets. He ROOTS for the the Bluejays." Now, I openly admit that I am not exactly thrown into raptures of interest when Chris talks sports, but I felt SURE that if he had suddenly dropped the Mets in favor of another team, I would know about it. I then quickly reasoned that if he did, he would certainly not pick a non-American team, and TORONTO? They're practically FRENCH, and you KNOW how he feels about the French. So I felt quite self-assured in my conviction as I told Connor, "Daddy is not a Bluejays fan. I don't know where you got that idea. Daddy likes the Mets." This sent Connor into a veritable TIZZY of hysteria as he tearfully explained that he absolutely could not leave the mall without a Toronto Bluejays shirt, because he KNEW that they were Daddy's favorite team. He added emphatically, "He doesn't just love them. He ROOTS for them." I acquiesced simply because he was acting completely insane about it, and given that I had no explanation for why he believed this, I couldn't really offer any evidence to the contrary. Finally, "Why do you want to buy Daddy a planet mobile?" "Because he loves the planets. It's like, all he ever talks about. Every time it gets dark, he wants to take me outside and talk about the planets, and he's always trying to read me that planet book. I don't even want to read it anymore, but he likes it alot, so I let him read it to me." I tried to explain that Daddy was just trying to do a homeschool unit with Connor on astronomy, but Connor was convinced that this went way beyond devotion to academics. So we set off in search of a beach ball, a bluejays shirt, and a planet mobile. First, we struck out on the beach ball. Most retailers had received the memo that summer was over. Connor took this very well. So off we went to the toy store to find a planet mobile, and found something EVEN BETTER. It was an interactive light-up planetarium with a computer chip that could teach about the constellations. Connor exclaimed in a feverish tone, "He can take this into his garage room and make it all dark and shine the stars on the ceiling! He's gonna LOVE this! He'll learn SO MUCH!" So we purchased the new toy for Daddy and headed to Champs sporting goods in search of a bluejays shirt. Alas, the average in-the-mall chain store does not carry bluejays sports gear. Apparently there's just not enough demand, given that the only Bluejay fan in the tri-state area is not even an ACTUAL fan; he's just a fan in his son's demented imagination. The only Toronto Bluejays item we could find was at a cart in the middle of the mall; it was a baseball cap with a Toronto Bluejay that LIT UP. This, Connor felt, was the epitome of the perfect gift. I was stricken with terror; how was I going to talk him out of this? Thankfully, it was not a sized cap; it was adjustable, and Connor accepted the explanation that Daddy unfortunately only wears sized caps. I told Connor that I thought that the only store that would carry Bluejays stuff was a sports specialty store in our area, but that it was too late to go that night. So I suggested making Daddy a gift certificate, letting him know that we were ordering one online. Connor said, "Okay, we can do that. But if you're not going to do that, then you're going to have to get on a bus and go find a shirt, even if you have to ride the bus all night. I have to give him a bluejays shirt." Okay, so gift certificate it was.
On the way home, Connor talked excitedly about his purchase and about the gift certificate. He warned me umpteen times not to tell Chris about his surprises. I hate to commit this to the written word, and hope that Connor will not hold a grudge when he reads this someday as an adult, but the very second he was in bed, I darted upstairs to warn Chris about his gifts so that he could practice his gratitude. He was baffled on the beach ball, and highly amused that his astronomy unit was being misconstrued as a rather tiring hobby. He vowed to be exceptionally excited over the planetarium, though. As soon as I mentioned the Bluejays and Connor's belief that they were his favorite team, Chris doubled over in laughter. He explained that several weeks ago, when he had taken Connor to a Yankee game, the Yankees were playing the Bluejays, so Chris kept telling Connor that they were rooting for the bluejays because they hate the Yankees. Connor had a great time with Chris at Yankee stadium, angering Yankee fans by yelling, "Go Bluejays! Woo-HOOOO!" This had made quite an impression on Connor, and I guess he filed it away in his memory. Chris was so touched by this thoughtful sentiment that he's actually very enthusiastically awaiting the arrival of his Bluejays shirt.
The following day, after we sang Happy Birthday, Chris delivered an Oscar-commanding performance. Right before he blew out his candles, he said, "What is my birthday wish?...Hm... I wish that someday I will get some sort of fun planet toy... Wait, no...I really want that, but what I REALLY want is, hm... some kind of... Bluejays stuff, because I LOVE the Bluejays." I seriously thought Connor was going to fall out of his chair. He almost cried. Then he barrelled out of his seat and practically socked Chris in the chest with the envelope containing the gift certificate and the box with the planetarium in it. Chris was enthusiastic and overwhelmed with Connor's generosity. Connor was smugly pointed in telling me, "I TOLD you that this is what he wanted." And when Chris opened the presents from me, a Mets jersey and some cd's that he had wanted for a while, Connor gave me a condescending look that clearly said, "Nice try, but I think we know who the better gift giver is in THIS house."

Present Season Has Begun..

Last weekend, Uncle Paul began asking me what the kids want for Christmas, and I thought it was just Uncle Paul being Uncle Paul-- industrious and ahead of the game. But no, it wasn't that. This entire week, I've been inundated with requests for the kids' sizes, preferences, etc. I'm shocked! I haven't even given a THOUGHT to Christmas yet! And you would think that *I* would be beginning earlier than anyone else, given that my time will be otherwise occupied during some of the prime shopping days of the season, what with giving birth and all. So I've decided to centralize all the info-- with our little journal nearing TWO THOUSAND hits, and with all of the emails I get about the articles, I'll rest assured that I've put the word out there. By the way, for those of you concerned that Chris's head is already big enough-- STOP READING THE BLOG! He takes the fact that friends and family have visited 2000 times as proof positive that our kids really ARE as cool as he's been saying all along.

So. On to the present info.
Connor is size 5. Rory is size 3. Riley Katie is size 18-24 months, although it is still way too big on her. I'm too insulted to put her into size 12-18 months. I want to believe I'm raising a tall kid, but the facts say otherwise. Baby Girl Elio, believe it or not, could most use sizes 6-9 months, because she's pretty well stocked in the smaller sizes.

The Elio kids would most appreciate gifts of craft supplies, bath toys, and play-doh related items. These are all gifts which are consumable, so it won't really matter if they get doubles. And because of our family's enthusiasm and generosity in the gift-giving department, they have ZILLIONS of toys. If, however, you find yourself unable to resist toys, they always need more small wooden blocks and Thomas the Tankengine trains and accessories. But again, they are always in need of tub toys and art supplies, which tend to wear out or get used up rather quickly around here. Connor and Rory also are always excited to receive superhero pajamas, e.g. Spiderman, Mr. Fantastic, Superman, etc, or hometown hero pajamas; e.g. firefighter, police officer, etc. Connor would also LOVE if any relatives would like to write down stories (and include pictures) about when Mom or Dad were little, or things Mom or Dad liked to do when we were little. He can recite the story of me receiving my clown and Miss Piggy dolls from Uncle Paul and Uncle Bobby with such detail that I'd swear he was there if I didn't know better. Given how much Connor, Ror and Riley Kate love to hang out with family members, another fantastic gift would be a trip with a loved one to a zoo, or any fun planned day that they could look forward to-- if you pick a date ahead of time, they can unwrap a countdown calendar; they love counting down days till a fun event.

So, those are my humble suggestions for Christmas. Chris and I appreciate how generous everyone has always been to our kids, and honestly we don't mind all the questions-- it makes us really glad for our kids that they are so lucky to have relatives and friends who are always thinking of them.

Hostility, Food Court Shows, and Mr. Invisible

Sorry we've been offline for a few days. We had a bit of an internet glitch. Well, WE didn't; our company did. I can't even remember half of the cute stuff the kids have done in the last week.

Our current renovations have finally been completed, much to our relief, and CERTAINLY much to Ror's. Near the end, he became quite hostile toward the construction crew. Several days before construction ended, I noticed that the handymen seemed to be giving Ror funny looks, almost tentative or cautious, when we would walk outside to the car and pass by them as they worked. Then two days before work ended, I figured out why: I was in the hallway near his bedroom and heard hostile shouting and banging. I thought he was napping, so I went to the door and peeked through the cracked opening. Ror was standing at the window, screaming, "Hey you fixer guys! Stop making noise, I'm trying to sleep! And stop wrecking my house! You're making me SICK! Get out of here! Go home! Get away from me and leave me alone!" What a lovely way to show the crew that we appreciate the work they've done.

A few nights ago, to get away from all of the banging, Riley Kate and I went to the mall (AND had portraits taken; check her online album later tonight!) and ate at the food court. I quickly discovered that the outfit she was wearing (a very snazzy leopard print jumper) attracted a great deal of attention, and what this kid certainly does NOT need is more attention. She gave a full fledged show in the food court for three tables full of people. She even got an encore, and ever one to give the people what they want, rocked out to "Rock the Casbah." During "Where Have All the Cowboys Gone," the people finished their food and began to depart. She started screaming like a deranged Eva Peron, insulted and incensed that her public was leaving her.

Connor and I also made a recent trip to the mall to shop for Chris's birthday presents (which is a whole separate story, which I will post tomorrow), but he was much more demure in the food court, using his new "Mr. Invisible" skills, developed days earlier on a family trip to Friendly's. One night last week, we all decided to go to Friendly's rather than cook. However, when we arrived, there wasn't a table available that could fit all of us, so we had to split up at two tables across an aisle from each other. Connor, for the first time, had the privilege of sitting at the "big kid" table with our nine- and ten-year-old. He took that opportunity to try out some "magic tricks". Good boys that they are, they decided to play along and pretend that he had amazed them all. Connor said, "Okay, I'm going to make myself invisible-- Shazam!" The two boys shouted in mock astonishment, "Oh my GOSH! Where'd he GO? He's GONE!" I'm not sure if it was the convincing air of disbelief in their voices, or the fact that he figured that boys not much older than him wouldn't be capable of pretending to not see him--- but he was STUNNED. He began looking at his arms and legs, and noting that he could see HIMSELF, figured that invisibility did not affect the invisible party, and started saying, "I am TOTALLY invisible! I don't even know how I DID it! I made myself invisible! I cannot BELIEVE this!" So perhaps he's not bound for Harvard, but the new "trick" does provide hours of enjoyment for other residents of the house who are badgered over and over to answer whether they can see him or not.

Pictures of Chris's birthday lunch should be posted, along with a new album showing our renovations, later tonight.

The Baby Elio Game

Please visit the site expectnet.com. On that page, go to "Game Name" and enter "BabyElio". Then have fun entering your guess on Baby Elio's stats! Thanks!

Mother's Helper

I have some distance now, and I can see that it was funny. Destructive, but funny. Potentially dangerous and obviously illustrative of my lack of brains, but still a teensy bit funny.

A few nights ago I was lying on the couch, clearly out of breath, trying to get Connor and Riley Kate to listen to a story. Rory got up from his tower-building endeavor and came over to me, asking, "Mommy, you okay? You a little bit sicky?" I replied, "No, Rory. I am just tired because I painted too much today." I had been painting my bedroom-- I need to get these things done quickly while Chris is out of the house, because when he catches me doing stuff like this, he tries to stop me, citing pregnancy concerns. Puh-LEASE. If I didn't do manual labor while I was pregnant, I wouldn't have done any work for the past bajillion years, given that I have been pregnant for my entire adult life. But I digress. So I had been hurrying, trying to get an entire room painted during Chris's three hour absence. Not an easy task, and I was tired. Ror pressed further, "You're soooo tired, Mommy? The paint is HARD WORK?" "Yes, Rory, because the baby in my tummy makes it a little hard for me to bend over to reach the paint tray. So I'm just taking a little break." I encouraged him to go down to the playroom and wait for me, because after the story, I intended to finish painting while the three of them played in the playroom, which is right outside of my bedroom. Ror cheerfully said, "Okay!" I had closed my bedroom door, which Ror can't (or, COULDN'T UP UNTIL THAT DAY) open.

Less than five minutes later, Connor and Riley Kate and I trooped downstairs so that they could play while I painted. (For the pregnancy harpies out there, it occurs to me that I should reassure you-- yes, the paint is latex-based and safe for pregnant women to inhale the fumes, AND I had the windows open.) I came downstairs to find Ror not in the playroom, and the door to my bedroom was...OPEN. I looked inside. There I beheld Ror, who had, in five minutes, painted an entire wall (well, as high as he could reach), along with the carpet and himself. He had evidently begun with a roller, but finding it cumbersome, had flung the roller onto the floor (WITH PAINT DRIPPING FROM IT) in favor of simply using his hands to scoop up gobs of paint and smearing it on the walls. He cheerfully said, "I'm HELPING YOU!" I took one look and screamed, "RORYYYYY!" He looked absolutely STUNNED that I hadn't reacted with surprised gratitude, and immediately he burst into tears. I realized quickly that the whole incident had in fact been MY fault, given that the kid clearly had good intentions and *I* had allowed him to go downstairs unsupervised with only a closed door separating him from a can of paint sitting on the floor. So I quickly said, "THANK you for being SUCH a great HELPER! Wow, this is SUPER!" He went back to grinning. I went on, "It looks like you got a little bit of paint [and by little, I mean half a can] on the carpet, so why don't you play in the playroom while Mom cleans up?" In the meantime, I gated Riley Kate into her bedroom (also adjoining my bedroom), knowing that she'd be in the thick of the mess the instant she was given the opportunity. So while I was scrubbing, Ror apparently sneaked up behind me and took the roll of paper towels and Fantastik. A few minutes later I heard his little voice saying, "I'm cleaning up!" I turned around, and found myself staring at Ror's eye through an empty paper towel tube. I asked, "WHERE ARE THE PAPER TOWELS THAT WERE ON THAT TUBE?" He didn't need to answer. I glanced behind him-- he had unrolled EVERY SHEET and laid it on the carpet, and was now spraying each sheet with Fantastik.
I quickly said, "Ror, you have done SO MUCH great helping today that I feel ALL better. I'm not even tired anymore, but YOU must be, after all of your hard work. Why don't we put you to bed?"

He willingly went to bed while I attempted to salvage the bedroom. The next morning, he woke up and proudly told Chris, "I'm Mommy's big helper! I painted your room!" Chris thanked him profusely.

I am thanking his guardian angel that he didn't EAT the paint or spray himself in the eye with Fantastik, and get the vapors every time I think of it, but I am still making a scrapbook page for his baby book, relaying the story of Rory's Big Day of Helping. Perhaps I'll include photos of the two days of scrubbing and solvent applications it has taken to help the room RECOVER from his helping.