The wounded giant.

  Seated on the balcony of a mission style hotel, I watch as palm trees bend and sway from the stiff wind in the courtyard below. The sound of water splashing in twin, 250-foot long, water fountains, nearly drowns out the sound of the palm fronds flapping wildly from the wind. The midnight air is comfortable, and carries a hint of jasmine and alyssum. The fountains have many lights which are changing colors in unison, illuminating the crystal clear water, causing the ripples to shimmer on the surface. It sounds like paradise, a resort in Mexico perhaps, however, if I look beyond the most distant palm trees who's trunks are spiraled with hundreds of white lights, I see two ribbons of light, red and white, moving in opposite directions.  It is interstate 5, somewhere in California's vast central valley.

  Inside the hotel room, all is quiet. Orion is passed out and Apollo is unwinding watching a movie; a sharp contrast from the car ride a few hours earlier. While driving on I-5, we watched a bright orange sun setting against a golden, cloudless horizon. The silhouettes of steel high voltage power line towers, looked like 100-foot tall giant stick-figures, marching in tandem to meet the sun where she touched pastel violet hills far off in the distance. Orion squealed with delight repeatedly from his carseat, while Apollo answered back matching pitch and decibel. The sound was deafening and almost spoiled the serenity of the setting sun which Melanie and I were trying to enjoy. This is the end result of driving nearly 2,500 miles in the past 11 days with little ones in the car.

 This last leg of our road trip was not planned but was an important one. Sixty hours ago, we left Santa Rosa for southern California, to visit my ailing father. My dad will be 82-years-old in a couple weeks. He is active and always on the go, and I have never known him to sit still for very long. He is one of the toughest people I have ever known. He never complains when he is sick or injured and has always kept moving when the same ailment would have left others flat on their backs. My dad has a giant's presence in any room and enjoys good conversation, story telling, political debates, and expressing his opinion whether you want to hear it or not. As you can imagine, when I hear my father is sick enough to be hospitalized, I know it has to be serious. I also know that he would not go to the hospital on his own, and it was my mother that dragged him there. My greek mother stands a mere 4 foot, 11 inches tall and is dwarfed by my fathers 6 foot, 1 inch frame, however, she can be very persuasive and forceful when needed.
  My father was hospitalized with heart failure, fever, loss of appetite, pain in his legs and hips, anemia, and low potassium, among other things. A whole battery of tests, and because of the perseverance of my greek mother, my dad was found to have an autoimmune disease, and is hopefully on the road to recovery. Our short trip to see him was both to be supportive and in hopes that seeing the grandchildren would lift my father's spirits. Because of some of the underlying conditions, visiting with my dad proved to be a real task. We were required to wear gloves and gowns and had to convince the nursing staff to allow Apollo and Orion into the room to see him. Fortunately, by Sunday afternoon, my father was discharged from the hospital with a diagnosis, direction, and a plan of action.

  I drove my dad and mom home from the hospital and I could tell that my dad was happy to finally be out of there and he was excited to be headed home. My parents live in the mountains. Their home is on a hillside, and consequently, there are thirty steps to get to their front door. As my father has too much pride to allow any one assist him, we watched helplessly as he climbed the steps slowly and deliberately, both hands grasping the hand rail on his right side, pulling himself up, while lifting his legs one by one. As hard as it was for me to watch, I imagine it was harder for him knowing that we were seeing him in this weakened state.
  As I needed to return home by sometime Monday morning, it was with heavy hearts that we departed my parents home and began the journey back to our own home. We would have liked nothing more than to spend a week with my parents helping them out while my dad began to mend. Alas, I find myself writing in the wee hours of the morning, instead of sleeping, trying to make some sense of our temporal existence, and our all too short visit with a wounded giant.

The Mungie

  I do not pretend to understand how the mind of a toddler works, but as I have said before, I find it fascinating! Apollo has some how come up with the word, "Mungie". How?...what?...where?...I may never know. The first time I heard him use this word or name, he was talking to a bowl of tadpoles that he had just helped to catch. "Hi lil' mungies", he would say repeatedly, "Dada, did you see my lil' mungies?" Over the course of the next few days, he started to call Orion, Mungie. I love nicknames, so as you can probably guess, Orion is now Mungie (among other things). Oddly enough, the name suites him; he is a lil' Mungie!
  June was a transitional month for our little Mungie. Orion reluctantly made the progression from crawling to walking. I say reluctantly, because as with Apollo, I think Orion has a better understanding of cause and effect, or action and reaction, than most kids his age. Simply put, the higher you fall from, the more it hurts. He has been walking around the house for months now with the aid of anything that would slide across the floor. On occasion, Orion would be preoccupied with a toy in his hands and he would forget that he was not holding on to anything and he would take a few un-assisted steps across the room. Once he noticed his error, he would squeal in discontent, and drop immediately to the floor.

 
Every day that passes, Orion waddles around on two feet more, and crawls less. How I miss his crawling already. It was like watching a mechanical windup toy crawl across the floor. Now a new era of terror has begun in the house of Miles.
    Everything sacred is in full lockdown mode. Cabinets, drawers, counters. Blender might be a better nickname for our little Mungie, as he leaves a path of destruction in his wake, that even a Vita-Mix would envy. Cant see into a drawer that is higher than your head? no problem! Just open it, stand on your tipi-toes, reach in and pull out everything that your little hands can grab, and throw it on the floor. And if you can't get a cabinet door or drawer to open, scream at the top of your lungs and throw yourself to the floor as if you just lost the world series, and then turn on the waterworks. This may not open anything, but apparently you sure feel much better afterward. (I might have to try this at work!)
  This twenty two pound baby of ours, pretty much runs the house. He is bossy, demanding, and loud.(Melanies genetic's) Those three traits are a bad combination. He wants what he wants, and he wants it now! He counteracts this with his sweetness and playfulness. If this little Mungie likes you, he will lay his head on you even if you are a dog laying on the floor or a radio playing a song he likes in the back yard. He is as much fun as he is trouble.

  The affect of Orion's larger than life presence in our home has begun to take its toll on Apollo. I believe that Apollo is feeling like he has been pushed aside and is now second to Orion. We have gone through great pains to avoid this predicament, yet we have found ourselves in the midst of it. Apollo mostly manifest this thru a bit of passive aggresive behavior, but he also will take it up a notch or two if the mood strikes him. Apollo likes to place toys just out of Orions reach, pinch his leg (unprovoked), block him from coming in or out of the house, or push him out of his way if Orion is trying to interact with him. It is challenging to find the right way to react to this type of behaviour in an effort to not perpetuate it further. Melanie has decided that the best approach is for Apollo to surrender on of his favorite toys as a consequence of his actions. The toy is placed on top of the refridgerator where he can see it as a constant reminder of the consequence until he earns it back for good behavior. This approach is working marginally well, however, I do enjoy the fact that Apollo will approach me when this happens and tell me his side of the story;
 "I am really mad at mama! She took my Finn McMissle car from me!" He will announce.
"Were you mean to baby brother?", I will enquire.
"Yes! Because he wouldn't stop looking at me! I want you to be rough to mama and put her in a time out and get me my Finn back!"
~~
  If I end up in the hospital, you will know that I tried to be "rough" with mama.

 

A Fathers day

I can't believe it has been over a month since my last post. I have tons to write about and I have attempted to write on many occasions, however, with the longer days, and two young children that are always on the go, it is hard to get a free moment to write a few paragraphs. I will finish up a post I started on fathers day and I hope to have a few more posts this month to make up for my lack of posts in June. ~~~

    Fathers Day.  I never really stopped to think about the significance of what it meant to be a father. Not that I did not spend a large amount of time weighing the pros and cons of fatherhood, because I did do that, but the great amount of sacrifice and greater amount of responsibility that I now realize comes with fatherhood, weighs heavy upon me. It is so easy, in most cases, to create life...to become a father, whether by choice or by accident. But, it is what we do with those lives that we created, that will build our legacy.
 Recently, a friend of mine passed away. Quite unexpected was his passing, and being but a few years older then I, it has left me to ponder many times into the wee hours of the morning, my own mortality and how that would affect Apollo and Orion. You can plan, make preparations, make back up plans...it really doesn't matter; at some point your time comes, and in an instant, everything changes. It pains me to think of my boys growing up without one of their parents. It is with this in mind that I approach the way I interact with my little ones. I try to envision how their last memory of me would be if this moment with them, were to be my last. I always try to leave things on a positive note. I always want to be their hero.

  I have had my fair share of loved ones pass away. For every departure, a scar remains, concealed only by the passing of time, yet deep inside, the wounds have never fully healed. I do my best to honor my dearly departed and I hope that I represent them well.
 As a 4-year-old, Apollo most likely does not have a full understanding of death, however, he understands a great deal and probably to a greater degree than I did at that age. He has had to watch some of our pets leave us, as well as wild critters (bug, mammal, fish, and fowl) that we have happened to encounter. We also discuss with Apollo about our loved ones that have departed this world. It is our way to honor their memory and keep them alive and also to keep our sons connected to their ancestors so that they will know where they come from. Apollo happened to be at his great grandpa Joe's house for the last two weeks of his life. At 20-months-old, Apollo does not remember this, however, he does remember his great grandpa. We show him pictures from time to time and talk to him about his great grandpa Joe, in hopes to keep his memories of him intact.
  It has been a few months since we have talked about Grandpa Joe, so you can imagine my surprise when Apollo approached me one day and proclaimed, "Dada, I want to go that big house by our snow house* to see grandpa Joe. I want him to see how big I got."
  I had to fight back the tears as a lump formed in my throat. This comment lead to a great conversation with Apollo about life and death.
 "Did grandpa Joe go to doggie heaven or people heaven?" Apollo asked.
"Well," I explained, "they are kind of the same place. But you have to be very special to get into doggie heaven, because only the best people are entrusted with looking after animals. I am pretty sure that Grandpa Joe is in doggie heaven right now taking care of Lucy, Nokia, and Diego (our dogs)."
"And Harold (our cockatoo), too?" he asked.
"Yup," I assured him, "and Harold too!"
"I want to go there and see him (Grandpa Joe)." Apollo replied.
"Yeah, thats not gonna happen until your at least a hundred-years-old!"

  As you can imagine, this opened up another, longer dialogue about growing old. It is in these moments that I realize my roll as a father is multi-faceted. I am a teacher, mentor, spiritual advisor, playmate, friend, and protector. These are some pretty big shoes to fill and at times I hardly feel worthy of such an honorable roll. As I stumble my way through fatherhood, I am constantly reminded of how lucky I am to stand where I am standing; whether it is Orion falling asleep in my arms or Apollo asking me endless questions about the world around him, I know that I am doing my best to build my own legacy.

(The last photo is Apollo with Grandpa Joe, Thanksgiving Day, 2008)
* Apollo refers to our home in Bend, Oregon as "our snow house". "that big house" is Grandpa Joe's house in Madras, OR.

A child's prayer

It is by far my favorite time of year. I am loving every minute of the longer days and warm temperatures. Our quaint little back yard offers a sanctuary from the daily grind. Our garden is leaping out of the ground and our summer flowers are starting to bloom. We have a planted, half wine barrel on our patio that is overflowing with star jasmine in a spectacular display of greens with the contrast of white, star-shaped flowers and an even more spectacular fragrance that hangs on the air as it moves about the yard. Lemons hang so abundantly from the tree in the corner of the yard that the branches are nearly touching the ground from the weight of the fruit. Bright blue Stellar's Jays, fly in and out of the fig tree checking for any fruits that are nearly ripened...they are counting the days and so are we.
  Dappled sunlight streams through the weathered 2x2 redwood slats that make up the patio cover. Our 10-month-old squeals with excitement as he races across the concrete in his "walker", trying to escape the spray of water that his 4-year-old brother "accidentally" showered him with while filling his baby blue, plastic play pool. This is the best part of the day for me. I have left work behind, and have done my best to block it out of my mind while I get to enjoy my wife and kids. It is crazy at times, the demands of parenthood, and there are times when I wonder, "What the heck was I thinking!" Were I not so enamored with my little ones and enjoying them so much, I would have lost my sanity by now.
 
  Orion is a screamer! I can't blame him. We have screaming parrots, a screaming 4-year-old, a loud teenager, and a boisterous wife and mother. (Sorry Mel) Orion was born screaming. Compared to Apollo's soft and quiet new-born cry, Orion was really loud and my first thought was, "Wow! Apollo wasn't this loud until he was over a year old." The screaming has been well developed now and encouraged by Apollo who will match him decibel for decibel. I know that I have some hearing loss, but the high pitched, shrill screams, leave my ears ringing, and my head aching. I am seriously thinking about picking up some earplugs. Orion has been cranky lately from teething and a growth spurt, so he makes his discomfort well known by exercising his rather large lungs and obnoxiously loud voice. With our windows open at night and all the time we spend outside, I am surprised that Children Services has not shown up to make sure we weren't beating him. Alas, his cuteness and sweet disposition more than make up for these trying times, and has given me the foresight to consider singing lessons when he is older...maybe opera.
  Then there is Apollo. It is challenging to convey in writing the sarcasm and timing that Apollo has. I have been laughing off and on for the last two days while driving or seated in my office, contemplating his quick wit and general irreverence. He really is a naughty little guy and although I will take credit for many of his less than favorable moments, comments, or actions, there are just as many that are all Apollo and I can not for the life of me figure out where he comes up with this stuff.
  I occasionally will come home from work to have lunch with Melanie and the little ones. Upon arriving home one day this week, I entered the house only to find that Apollo and Aden were the only ones at home. Aden was in the backyard tending to the parrots and their afternoon outing. Apollo was in the house and greeted me with a hug and then joined me for lunch. In the 30 minutes that I was at home, Apollo filled me in on all the happenings of the morning and left me in hysterics for my return trip to work.
  Seated side by side at the counter, I asked Apollo where his mom was. "She went to take Ian to the doctor," he replied. And because I am always sarcastic, I had to ask, "Are they checking out his brain?"
"No," he started, "they are checking out his body so he can go camping again." I had to chuckle at this since he was obviously listening to everyones conversations all morning; Melanie had taken Ian to the doctor to have a physical done, as a requirement for his summer job at a Boy Scout camp. About that time, Aden opened up the sliding door from the patio and peaked his head inside to check out the time. "Hi Aden. What are you doing?" I asked. "I am checking the time to see if the birds have been out for an hour yet, which they have been, so I can put them away," Aden responded. Apollo looked at me, cocked his head to the side, rolled his eyes and said, "We just got the birds out." Busted, Aden.

  The icing on the cake for my lunch time visit, came amidst the random conversation and questions. At some point, Apollo noticed a small hole on the sleeve of my shirt. He reached over, stuck his finger in it, and pulled, slightly tearing the fabric. "Apollo!" I said in a slightly stern voice with a look of disapproval on my face. He quickly retracted his hand, clasped his hands together in his lap, pursed his lips in a failed attempt to hold in a smile and said, "I don't know better." and then burst into laughter. "I was just pretending dada," he confessed. I have been laughing for two days over this.
  For an encore, Apollo out did himself tonight. We were all seated around the table for dinner when Melanie asked Ian to bless the food. As Ian started his prayer, Apollo decided that he would offer up his own prayer, and the first one that he has done unassisted, I might add. Talking over his brother, we heard; "...and bless momma and dada, especially dada because he is really naughty and he likes to say potty words. Amen!" Amen, indeed.

  

Mayday! Steps, stitches, and joobies in the eyes.

This is how I spend a typical outing; Apollo perched atop my shoulders, laughing, and bantering.
 "Dada, I want to go up top!" is how it usually starts. Even in the house on the way to bed Apollo will ask to ride "up top", as he calls it, and often he will beg for it. There is bargaining and compromises and it is often thrown back in my face when I ask for something of him. "Apollo, we forgot to hug today! Come here so I can hug you," I will start. "Dada, we forgot to go up top today! First I will go up top, then I will hug you!" will be his snarky reply.
 I love the relationship I have with this rambunctious 4-year-old of mine. There is an enormous amount of trust, and a deep seeded connection that I never could have imagined. It is as if
 my sarcasm was genetically encoded in his DNA and is manifesting itself  beautifully in Apollo, much to Melanie's dismay. Apollo knows that I understand and appreciate his sarcasm in a way that no one else can, and although he will take it up a notch seeking my approval when I am present, it is his mothers daily reports (complaints) of Apollo's rottenness that I truly relish!

  With all the fun and a games, the flip side is life's little tragedies. Apollo made his second trip to the ER recently. Swinging from a hammock in the backyard, and an extra hard shove from an overzealous friend, sent Apollo airborne with only the edge of a coffee table and his head to break his fall. Moments later, while seated at my desk at work, I received a phone call from Melanie. "I need you to call the doctor and make an appointment for Apollo to get some stitches," she says. Several things raced through my head in the next half of a second; 'Appointment? Who makes an appointment for stitches? Does she want to have his mouth sown shut? Is his (our) sarcasm really making her that crazy?' Then, in the background, I heard Apollo whimpering... I raced home to pick up Melanie and my battle weary boy, and off to the hospital we went.
  Here is where the trust becomes instrumental. It had to have been terrifying for Apollo, not knowing what the doctor was going to do. He was visually shaken, yet maintained his composure as he looked to his mom and I for support while at the hospital. We explained to Apollo that the doctor was our friend and that he was there to help him and that he would make the pain go away and fix his wound. Apollo was amazingly brave. His somber and sullen face never gave way to tears throughout the treatment and suturing process. He only squirmed a small amount when the doctor stuck a needle in his wound in several locations, to numb the sight prior to suturing. 45 minutes, a $170 co-pay, and three stitches later (plus untold extra charges not covered by my insurance still to come), and we were on our way home. Apollo even managed to muster up enough courage to give the doctor and nurse a fist bump on the way out.
 Apollo returned to his normal self as soon as we left the hospital; "Do I get a new toy now because I was so brave? Can we go to Old McDonalds and get a toy? Because I am hungry!"(Yes, he calls McDonalds, 'Old McDonalds'...somehow, he has connected the song and the restaurant)
  Upon showing the carnage pictures to Apollo later that day, he was sure that the pictures were not the right ones; "Thats not my owe-eee! Thats too little! Mine was bigger!" It is funny how in his mind with all that he went through, he had painted a picture of this enormous wound. When he saw the pictures of his stitches, he responded with, "Hey! The doctor didn't fix my head! Its still broken!" After a 15 minute discussion on how the body heals and what the stitches do, Apollo was satisfied and ended the conversation with, "I really like my doctor."

  Apollo was probably not the easiest child to raise thus far. I really wouldn't know since he is my first experience in child rearing, however, Melanie lets me know in no uncertain terms, that he is no cake walk. Now that we have Orion, and I can compare the two, I am convinced that I am incapable of producing "easy" offspring. Orion and Apollo are so different in disposition and personality, but some of their similarities are the traits that just about do Melanie in. Neither of them are sleepers, meaning, they are not consistent nappers, nor do the get to the place where they will sleep through the night until well after a year (or two) old. They like to stay up late and get up early.

  Orion hates to miss out on anything, and will fight off sleep by shaking his head from side to side, in an attempt to thwart off sleep. He listens intently to everything around him, and has memorized footsteps and walking patterns for everyone in the house. I am amazed when, after great effort, I can get him to fall asleep in my arms while waiting for Melanie to come to bed, and he will hear her footsteps down the hall, and snap out of a deep sleep and spin his head in the direction of the sound. He will pause and listen intently for more steps to confirm it is his mother and then burst into a dramatic, desperate, tearful, cry. "Mama!...Mamamamama!" he will wail. He will also stir and wake at the sound of others walking through the house, but will quickly fall back to sleep when he realizes it is not his mother. Yes, Orion is the biggest mama's boy ever and a velcro baby. He would be happy to be stitched to his moms side, as long as she followed his agenda.

  Orion can be very bossy, demanding, and needy, but he is also a lot of fun. He has a pure joy for life. He is full of laughter, loves to wrestle and play rough, explore and get into everything. This kid is mischief. He is big on hugs and cuddling and is overwhelmingly affectionate. He has a gorgeous smile, and shows it off frequently. He will initiate play in an instant, and will join in with anyone that is already in play mode. He is very observant and watches everyone and every thing around him. He is vocal and learns which sounds get him whats he wants, very quickly. Although most anyone can get him laughing at any time, Orion finds Apollo to be the funniest. Maybe because Apollo is not trying to make him laugh... he is just being Apollo.
   Orion is our mocking bird, and at just under 10 months, he will repeat back many words. He for sure knows mama, dada, and no no, as far as what they mean, but he has repeated back names like, Ian (his brother) and Remi (our dog) which comes out sounding like 'Weme'. He also has repeated back several other simple words.

  On May 17th, Orion's first tooth popped through; one of his bottom front teeth. Over the next week, two more teeth made their way through; another bottom and then a top front tooth. It looks like the other top front tooth is working on catching up. To top it off, he was battling a case of pinkeye at the same time. Needless to say, Orion has been unusually cranky, and clingy since Mothers day.

  Orion has also managed to slip in his first couple steps this past week as well. Mostly by accident or with a small amount of trickery. He has not totally committed to walking hands free yet.
  Looking back, it has been a crazy month.

 With all that I have listed here, we also had Ian graduate from high school. His dad, Aunt Celina, Uncle Wade, and Grandma Linda all came from Oregon to be a part of it. The weekend before, we had a visit from Melanie's sister Sarah and her husband Levi, and spent our time taking day trips to San Francisco, the Russian River, and Bodega bay, with the icing on the cake (for me at least) being the annular eclipse that made such a nice showing here in Santa Rosa, to finish off the weekend.
  My funniest memory of the month stemmed from Orion developing pink eye. It developed over the weekend, and while waiting for a week day to schedule an appointment with the doctor, Melanie remembered that she had once read that breast milk is a great home remedy for conjunctivitis. We confirmed this online with a google search, so Mel expressed a bit of milk into a container which she then used to drip the milk into the baby's eyes. First you have to understand that I refer to Melanie's breasts as her joobies, and her milk is of course called jooby juice. While I held Orion's head still and Melanie dripped some milk into his eyes, Apollo looked on and inquired, "What is mama putting in baby brothers eyes."
  "She is putting jooby juice in them," I replied.
"What!" came the obviously disturbed voice of Apollo, "Why would she put joobies in his eyes?!"
"Well, his eyes are sick. That is why they are pink, and the jooby juice is like medicine. It will help to make them better," I began. "If you get pink eye too, mama is going to do the same thing to you."
"NO WAY!" Apollo's voice was filled with terror. He threw himself to the floor and cried out, "I DONT WANNA PUT MAMA'S JOOBIES IN MY EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYES!"

  

Only a mother

Only a mother can love you unconditionally.
Only a mother can bring a wrath upon you that rivals that of a tornado but in the same instant would willingly give her life for yours.
Only a mother has the power to heal with just a gentle touch, softly spoken words, a kiss, or a hug.
Only a mother can see you for all that you are.
Only a mother knows you better than you know yourself.
Only a mother can forgive you for how you treated them throughout your teenage years.
Only a mother will be there for you when everyone else has let you down.
Only a mother will put you before herself.
Only a mother can bring you into this world, yet she will always carry you inside of herself for the rest of her life.
Only a mother
 
For my beautiful wife who is an amazing mother. I love the way you look upon our children everyday, in the same way that you looked at them the day that they were born.
Happy Mothers Day.

Replaced by a stuffed animal

The long, warm days are upon us. The air is filled with the smell of citrus blossoms and freesia. It is a great time to be outside. As I water our plants in the late afternoon, I inhale deeply through my nose and with each breath, I try to guess at all the subtle fragrances that I detect; lilac... citrus... jasmine... with hints of lavender and rosemary. (I sound like a wine connoisseur describing the subtle flavors in a glass of wine. How different is it really?)
 The smells that take me back to my youth are citrus blossoms and jasmine. Not only did we have citrus trees in our yard when I was young, but we had orange and lemon groves around our neighborhood. When the trees were blooming, the smell was so intense. I remember the intoxicating smell being carried on the afternoon breeze. The memories come rushing back every time I get a whiff of our lemon tree in bloom. We took it for granted back in those days when we raced between the rows of lemon trees, plucking fruit as we went, in an all out lemon war with the neighborhood kids. Getting nailed with a semi-ripe lemon, and the welt that it would leave, was a right of passage for a 10-year-old boy. If you could hold back the tears, you became a legend.

  As I watch Apollo and Orion grow, and start to play and interact more and more, I can only imagine the mischief that they will get into together, and what smells and sound will trigger memories from their youth.
  Although the two boys will play together, Apollo is not always sure he wants to share his toys with Orion and I am sure he doesn't enjoy not having all the attention on him all the time, but for the most part, he loves to play with Orion and Orion is already pretty adept at playing with toy cars. He has figured out that they roll back and forth as long as the wheels are in contact with the floor. I love watching him sitting next to his brother while both of them are driving toy cars around. Apollo offers up tips and instructions for proper car driving etiquette; "You have to hold it like this baby brother."
  Orion is so playful these days. He has discovered that climbing in and out of Apollo's toy tent, and pretending to hide, is great fun. He squeals and laughs, and races in and out of the tent with Apollo joining in the fun. By the time Orion is done playing, he is covered in sweat.

  Mile stones that this little 9-month-old terror has reached this past month are; standing and balancing with one hand hold and very briefly with no hands, climbing up on things off the floor, improved self feeding skills, pointing at things, mimicking sounds and facial expressions, and my personal favorite, saying "Dada" while he points at me. I hate to admit it but, his first word was "Mama". We are fairly certain that he has been saying "mama" since he was about six-month-old, but we are sure that he has been saying "mama" and "dada" for the past few weeks now. There is nothing better than walking into the room, and when your baby sees you, he smiles from ear to ear, points and says "dada!" and then crawls at full speed to greet you.

  Apollo has become quite the little man. He can be very pleasant and well mannered, and really wants to be able to do everything by himself. Climbing in and out of the van and even buckling his own seat belt and making sure it is in the right position, is one of the best examples of a "big kid". Apollo also has a bit of a bully in him. He enjoys being sarcastic and finds great pleasure in being a bully to his brothers and friends. Pushing your friend over while tying his shoe, or dumping sand on another friends head at the beach, brings great laughter and enjoyment every time.
 We are of course teaching Apollo the Golden Rule and explaining to him that although it is funny to torture your friends, it is not always nice and you have to expect this kind of treatment in return. I cannot help but laugh when he does these types of things, which I am sure encourages this behavior. I am thinking that some martial arts classes are in order, so he can learn to defend himself when upsets the wrong kid.

  Apollo has learned to write his first name this past week. It took a little bribing and a whole lot of encouragement. Apollo begged us to give him his "prize" (bribe) first, and explained that he would work on writing his name later...after enjoying his prize. We stood our ground and told Apollo that he had to earn his prize first. He threw a few big fits, but after that, he seemed to get it down very quickly. The best part about it is that he was so pleased with himself, that he has not asked for his "prize".
 Apollo is finally working through sleeping by himself. I am not sure if he has found a coping mechanism, expanded his imagination to give personalities to inanimate objects, or if it is a transference of affection, but Apollo has adopted two plush animals as his new "best guys"; Lizard and Sharky. Apollo told me, "Dada. I won't be sad that you go to work in the morning now, because Lizard and Sharky will take care of me after you leave."
  Yup, I have been replaced by a stuffed animal.