Da Boys

Here are some shots of the boys. The beach photos were taken on my dad's (goonda) cell phone at the 57th St beach in Hyde Park. The hair cut photo was taken at the kid's barber shop.

Julian turns 2

Julian turned 2 this morning at 8:02am. Two years ago I saw him for the first time. His lower lip quivered, he cried - one cry - and pee'd (all systems go!) and then I got to hold him. And it's been thousands of cuddles since (even though now he sometimes says, "No cuddoles").

Tonight we'll celebrate as a fam with pizza (pezzA!) and cupcakes (and some presents). He doesn't really understand what the occasion is, but he likes opening up the mail these days (gifts from family members inside). And he likes to say, "Jooian two!"

We can't imagine life without him. His little toddler run down the hallway, his cheesy smile full of sharp teeth, his dramatics, especially the pouting lower lip, and his love of the song "Deep and Wide."

Happy Birthday Julian! We love you!!

Croup and Mischievous Joy

When Koehler kids get sick, they don't sleep; when Koehler dad's - being one - get stressed, they don't sleep. Where does Koehler momma fit into this? Cranky-land that's where!

This week Julian developed a cough that sounded like a barking seal. For parents out there you probably already guessed Croup. Yes, croup - that antiquated illness that isn't supposed to be hanging around society anymore. The illness that swells up your neck area - under your chin but above your chest. When you breathe in, you rasp; when you cough, you bark; and you struggle to go about the day normally. Well, this was treated with steam from the shower, cold air from the freezer, and a steroid from the doctor.

The not-sleeping really happens in the early morning hours. 4ish/5ish. Julian is uncomfortable and starts to cry and cough. Since he shares a room, Christian wakes up. And Dan is already up working on his next lecture. So I lay there in denial saying it's all just a bad dream.

But today I got them up and went back to 'snooze.' Dan remained in the back and I parented by listening. Christian and Julian began to push cars up and down the hallway. At one point, I looked up from my pillow and saw Christian pushing Julian, who was standing in his red wagon both smiling. I immediately got up to prevent disaster, but also started laughing hysterically on the inside. It was such an endearing picture of childhood sibling relationships as well as imagination ordering the day.

My thoughts were swept back to my grade school days when my brother Peter and I would get into similar shenanigans after school or on the weekends. One particular incident involved him riding a bicycle with me holding onto a rope tethered to the bike while standing on a skateboard. Now I say standing not riding because I never developed sound skateboarding skills. And actually this time the skateboard began to wobble back and forth with the speed of the bike pulling it. I freaked out and did the first thing I could think of - jump off the wobbly object. If I would have thought more rationally about it, I probably would have chosen to let go of the rope first. But that wasn't the immediate crisis to my brain. Because of this rash decision or impulse, I was dragged down our street - no rather I was bounced down our street unable to yell or cry because the air had been knocked out of me.

Anyway, the picture of my boys this morning brought this to mind. Ironically it wasn't a painful memory but one of mischievous joy.

Family

At some point in time we became a family. It wasn't upon bringing home little CP in March of 08. It happened later, when we emerged as a unit, a brand, a team. We have a routine. We have a value system. We have things that Koehlers do and things that Koehlers don't do.

Every morning Dan makes us breakfast. Every morning is different in terms of what the rest of us are doing while breakfast is being made. But sometimes when Dan starts beating egg yolks and whites in a metal bowl the boys stop what they are doing and do - THE EGG DANCE! A frantic stomping dance with smiles and tongues wagging and arms flapping and sometimes even booties shaking.

When the breakfast is ready and being brought to the table, we yell, "Breakfast time" in the vein of Sid the Science Kid. We all dart to the table, sometimes fast sometimes with more coaxing. Julian joins the fray but toddling down the hallway - almost running but almost tipping over. He can't quite pronounce breakfast and so it sounds more like, "Rocky time!"

We pray, we spill, we yell, we sing, we shout, we spill, we spit, we burp, we almost say excuse me, we spill, we clean up and that's the Koehler meal to start the day.

Do you have a dreamer?

 

Do you have a dreamer? Are you a dreamer? Ours is above. Christian Peter. 

What is a dreamer? Let me describe him to you:

The play is the thing. The imagined world is the reality. Or at least it intersects with reality as non-dreamers know it to be. Logic exists but in a third dimension. Something Wittgenstein might know about. 

Dreamers want to be understood. They may appear like they want to control the situation, but instead they really desire that their world is validated and appreciated, even if it can't be published or realized. 

Christian reacts to circumstances in life with intense emotions. He's 100% mad or ecstatic or sad. And it hinges on whether or not his dream is ignored or if it actually came true. 

The funniest example is a story that involves excrement - so be forewarned. 

Christian came into the room one day and said to Dan, "I may have a little accident in my pants..."

and here is where the evidence of dreaming is revealed:

"or it might be a dried cranberry."

Christian and the 'Ding Ding' Train

This weekend my in-laws came into town for a visit. So far the boys have welcomed them into their environment with much storytelling and show and tell. Christian HAD to show them his running shoes that have SpiderMan on them and HAD to show them the Scout train made by Lionel that the other grandpa gave him for this 4th birthday. They rightfully took great interest in these things and sat down on his bed to stare at the electric train make it's same rounds over and over again - to everyone's delight!

Yesterday after Julian awoke from his afternoon nap, we mobilized everyone - which is an event in itself - and walked out of our air conditioned apartment into the hot and humid streets of Chicago, our destination being Evanston, a suburb situated to the north of our Ravenswood residence. We made our way to the Red Line Wilson stop. This stop is not handicap accessible and so we had to schlep the kids and the bags and stroller up to the platform. We then caught a train right away and started chugging through the north side neighborhoods until the city limits. During this trip the boys were very excited to look out the window at the buildings and trees zooming by. Christian seemed enchanted by it; Julian was wanting a little more liberty than his little body could handle (not yet good at balancing even when walking).

When we reached Howard, we got off and had to find the Purple Line shuttle bus, since the train line was under repair. The bus wasn't as cool as the train, of course. But we got to sit directly behind the bus driver and Christian thought this was a pretty big deal. All of humanity got on the bus with its smells, colors, languages, and dress. But the boys weren't into anthropology - just city scaping and shoving each other!

We jumped off the bus in downtown Evanston and walked a few blocks to the book store where we visited the juvenile book section, not for the literature but for the train table. Yes, this is an excursion we often make. Sometimes we read and buy books too:) But this was to be a short visit - we had a movie showing to make! Yes, we all went to see Madagascar 3 (not 3D)! The boys were so excited to go, but more so because they were going to have candy and popcorn! What a treat to have a whole bag of goodness to mindlessly (or mindfully) enjoy in the fistfuls.

Following the craziness of the movie, which not only involved the crazy storyline and characters but also the Koehler family craziness of climbing, spilling food and beverages, and going potty, etc., we left relatively the same as when we came. Julian alone had soaked himself with water. But a visit to the facilities refreshed that and everyone else.

We made our way to not the EL this time but the Metra. The Metra is a commuter train that unlike the EL has its own engine and has 4-5 double-decked coaches. Now, we walk to see these trains almost on a daily basis. Our boys call them the 'Ding Ding' trains due to the bell that dings when it arrives and leaves each station. Moreover, when Christian was a baby Dan and he would often take the Metra Electric District line. But doesn't remember these jaunts. So the Ding Ding train has become this unknown wonderful phenomenon that is only seen and heard at somewhat of a distance. Well this became realized yesterday when we took the Union Pacific North home from Evanston. Christian and I minded the gap and then climbed onto the train. He noticed immediately that there were two levels and he was insistent that we go upstairs to sit. So we did and boy did his face glow for the 15 minutes or so that we swayed, and chugged, and ding-dinged through the neighborhoods and tree tops as if flying.

Flash forward to bed time: we were praying and I asked him what he liked most about the day, listing the movie and popcorn. He said with a face glowing with joy, "The Ding Ding train where we rode on top and could see everything."

Boys Are Wild Things Indeed

Authors Stephen James and David Thomas begin their book Wild Things: the Art of Nurturing Boys by describing the wildness and imagination of boys, specifically how Stephen's twin 3 year old boys in seconds, upon him leaving the bathroom where they were bathing, engaged in a "no-holds-barred wrestling match. Water and bubbles were everywhere" (3). This is the reality that Dan and I now live with. The 'in an instant' crisis and/or threat of physical harm to, or more appropriately, by our sons.

For example, this past Sunday I was volunteering in the church nursery - toddlers' side. There were maybe 25 children, all walkers. Some toddling more than others. To match, there were maybe 7 volunteers. Julian was clingy at first, but eventually moved from me to the toys, mats, and play house areas. Halfway through the service, I left his side to change a little girl's diaper. The nano-second I do, I hear his scream. I turn and see that he is no longer in the little play house, but now rather lying outside of it under it's window. I reason that the only thing that could have placed him there so quickly would have been a face dive out of the window onto the floor.

The team leader was closest to him, picked him up and brought him to me. I tried to look at his face and upper body to see if there were any cuts or obvious injuries. He didn't seem to be bleeding - yet. But with each cry that came in between his panics and breaths blood started to spurt out - right onto my face. Splattered. It was now a war zone and I was the medic. People brought me towels - wet and dry. They brought ice. I think at some point I must have put the little girl down. For the next half hour it was all about comforting, cleaning up, and trying to get the ice pack close to his nose and forehead area.

He eventually calmed down and even tried to ice his hair and head by himself. I asked him to ice his eyes where the swelling by the nose was, but he didn't like that as much as his hair. But he was fine - he even went back into the play house and moved toward the windows with the intent of jumping out again. Needless to say, I didn't allow him too. The rest of the day my blood pressure, was in recovery mode; the rest of the day felt like I was recovering from running a race.

Praying for God's mercy in bringing up these boys!