Bike Club

You're learning to ride a bike.  In the house.  Without pants.  That's how it's done, right?  

WATCH OUT FOR THE BAR, SON!

2.5

Yesterday you were officially two-and-a-half years old. And you gave me that beautiful rose. I think it's time for a few updates...

In late July, you decided you were over your crib. Not by climbing out or anything, just by NOT SLEEPING. Also by pointing to the bed in your room and saying, "I want to sleep there, mama." You've always been very articulate. So, we got one of those fancy bedrail things and set you up. For the most part, you sleep great in it and barely ever get down from the bed by yourself. When you do, your father and I are terrified you will stumble through the hallway and fall down the stairs - so we've taken to locking you in your room like Rapunzel.

You've figured out how to undo locks.

Potty training: I would say we are 75% there. You've always loved to rub your diaper while you're drinking milk, and this habit will not die. So you're allowed a diaper in the morning, during naptime and at night. You're also allowed one when we're out and about and you haven't pooped yet that day. What, I'd rather not deal with cleaning up crap at the grocery store. Other than that, you love going pee pee in the potty. Every successful attempt is like a mini party... I jump up and down, hug you and tell you how proud I am, and you get an M&M. That is, if you remember you want one.

You always remember you want one.

I've started giving myself treats after I go pee pee, too.

Pee Pee in the Pot-Tay!

You've gone ahead and taken the first step in potty training yourself.


Only you're backwards. And you have clothes on. Also, I'm not sure why you've bought my favorite pink kitchen tongs along with you. If you think we're going to use those to pick up the poo poo, you're... hmm... maybe I'll buy another pair of tongs.

Picasso.

Are you ready for another installment of My Kid's A Genius? Just look at that artwork:


You have been drawing nearly perfect circles for months. Now, you're including small circles inside of the larger ones! Most of the time, as you're drawing, you say, "two eyes!" Bravo, my son, bravo!!

p.s. They also sort of look like boobs.

p.p.s. Please disregard the Jack Daniel's chalkboard we bought after seeing it in a bar.

16 month update

You have discovered how to climb stairs. We congratulate you when you do it at the playground. We say NO when you do it at home...

Your hair looks like this, curls or mullet?


Your new words are "golf ball" and "apple" and "car" and no, you still have not said "mama" - I'm starting to wonder who you think I am...

You love to eat these and Mommy (that's ME) wants to buy stock in the company (photo):


Last night you were up at 10:21pm, 12:08am, 1:00am and 4:37am. What's that about?

You know how to sign "milk" (photo):


You continue to be your Mommy and Daddy's best friend!

Splash

When I say that you hate swim class, I really, really mean it. You hate it as much as I would hate swimming with these guys...


However, you love the pool and have no problem splashing around at your grandparent's house. You love water in general... the beach, your tubby, drinking fountains, sinks, buckets. Anything that will get you wet.

But swim CLASS is another story. Maybe you're afraid of how I look in my headache-inducing swim cap I'm forced to wear at the Y. Or maybe it's the part where I dunk your entire head under water, suddenly, with no warning. Whatever it is, you scream for the entire half hour while I flash fake "I'm calm and I don't care if you're judging me and my child and this swim cap is squishing my brain" smiles at the other mothers.

More shoes and high fives...

We call your feet meat patties. They are very thick, and it hasn't been easy to stuff them into shoes. Until now! You have a better collection of footwear than your own mother, I'll have you know. Just look at those!

Other than sporting new shoes, you're into head banging, making "silly circles" (spinning until you get dizzy and fall down) and giving high fives.


Is there a picture in the world better than this?? I wish those were my pretty hands but they're not, they belong to your Auntie Ingrid. She's a hand model.

Dear Lord...

HELP. You have figured out how to do this:


No, not transform yourself into a monkey. STAND IN YOUR CRIB! Do you know what this means?! It means, if you don't feel like napping, well then you can just stand up. And jump around. And throw your video monitor on the floor. And eventually, you can figure out how to climb out. Rather, FALL out.

Time to build a new crib with bars that reach the ceiling...

Photo HERE.

Welcome Home!

I went out of town this weekend, for the first time since you were born, and came home to this on the front door:


Yes, that's a Triscuit taped to my sign. Lately you don't go anywhere without a Triscuit in your hand, but you gave one up to welcome me home. This equals LOVE. Sigh.

April 21st, 2010 - EPIC DAY!

You started walking last night. YOU STARTED WALKING LAST NIGHT!

For months you've been cruising around with your little fingers tightly grasping my hand. Recently, you let me go and turned to the wall for support, traversing along like Spiderman. (No, you haven't scaled your way up to the ceiling, not yet at least.) In the past week, you've been slowly moving from wall to nearby object with no help at all. And I've caught you standing by yourself many times, beaming with self satisfaction.

But yesterday, it was go time. Right after your ridiculously quick afternoon nap. You must have decided you were ready. You must have decided you wanted to make your father and I swell with pride and astonishment. You must have decided I need less time sitting on my ass, watching you play on the floor, and more exercise in the form of frantically running after a 13 month old. Because you just up and started walking. It still blows my mind. How does one just do something they've never done before, and successfully? Maybe I should attempt to play the violin as well as those child prodigies? I've always wanted to be that good, and maybe if I study them enough...

The world must feel so new to you. Every morning must feel like Christmas. You no longer need to point at something you want, hoping and praying I will understand. Now you just go to there. It is your world. You can go to anywhere, son. Except the laundry room, electronics closet, near the fireplace, the stairs, the computer, my bathroom, any of the toilets, the street, the cleaning closet, the garage, the alcohol cabinet....

Birth Day

Each year on our birthdays, we're reminded by a certain someone of the day we were born. Our mothers go over the details we've heard a thousand times. We listen, sometimes with feigned interest because it's 2:27 in the morning, and we let them remember the experience like it was yesterday. I know mom, you kicked the anesthesiologist in the face, we say. The truth is, until we become a mother ourselves we can't fully understand why our own moms have done this year after year. It is because, while our birthday is important to us, it is equally if not MORE important to our mothers.


I write all of this as my son approaches his first birthday. For months, cakes and themes and invites and baby books have held my mind hostage. A train cake? A rainbow cake? Paper invites, or an E-vite? Do we invite everyone we know, or do we keep it small? Do we get a clown? A pony? Do we cater it? Or do I cook and lose my head?

Thankfully, in the midst of that madness I will have a moment of clarity and I will think... my son has been on this planet for almost one year. What?! How did that happen? I gave birth to him yesterday. If "yesterday" is equivalent to March 15th, 2009. Oh, what a day that was! I suppose my yearly tale to me son will go something like this...

It was beautiful out. Your father brought beer and music to the hospital room. It felt like a party, minus the contractions. Your grandparents were rushing to make it in time, from as near as Palm Desert and as far as Minnesota. Friends and family flooded the waiting room. Wonderful nurses... angels, saints, my best friends. Juice, jello, an epidural. You took your time at first and then came fast. It was a piece of cake. Ten fingers, ten toes. More beer. A celebration!!

Something like that. He will hear a version of that tale this year (although he may not understand me) and every year after that. Because I am his mother. I am the one responsible for his birthday! (Well, his dad shares this responsibility but this site is letters from me, right? Right.) It is a day for us to celebrate such an awesome accomplishment. It is a day for us to remember. It is not a day for us to stress about ponies and scary clowns.


Now that I am a mother, I understand all of this. I understand why parents (there you go, dads) feel such joy on their children's birthdays. Thus, on my own birthday this year (oops, already went by, next year), I will act like I've never heard the story of my mom arriving to the hospital in a limo. Tell me more, mom, tell me the whole story!! That's what I will say. I will not stress over my son's birthday cake. Much. I will not stress much. And I will always, ALWAYS recall the details of March 15th, 2009. To anyone willing to listen.

Your first girlfriend

That's right, Katherine Heigl. Yes, I know we never watch that BS Grey's Anatomy but why else are you always calling out her name?? HEIGL. Hi-gull! You say it eleventy times a day.

Son, I have no problem with older women but she looks naked. Come on.

We're walking, and we're walking...

I think I forgot to mention something...





YOU TOOK YOUR FIRST STEPS!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yup, time to baby proof the entire house.

I'll bite you

Now that you have four teeth, you've started grinding them together.

I hate it. It's the worst sound, like you're chewing on sand and pebbles. And it can't be good for your tiny little teeth? Anyone? 1-800-DENTIST?

However, you still do not understand the word NO so until then, there is nothing I can do about it. Besides blog.

step step

You are about five minutes away from walking, and this is terrifying.

Well, yes, it's also incredible! Over the past two weeks, it's ALL you've wanted to do - hold our hands and walk around the house. It's very possible that my back will break soon. I am, after all, 30 years old. (Nope, no I'm not... just let me say that, though, it's more dramatic.)

Your dad is about to buy one of these...



...and even though it seems sort of leash-like, which I'm against, I might not object. My aching back!

Anyway, it's a very exciting time. You're not even 10 months and you're close to walking. I didn't walk until I was 18 months old, and there was NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. But terrifying, also, because once you start walking I'm not sure plopping you down on the carpet with toys will work anymore. I'll be doing the crossword puzzle, assuming you're sitting next to me, and suddenly I'll look up and you'll be on top of the microwave. Terrifying! How did you scale the counter?!

*By the way, now that your daddy has started his job at Amp radio, we have replaced that with our morning pirate song. I feel sort of badly about that, too, because I'm pretty sure the words, "have it your way, foreplay, before I feed your appetite," have nothing to do with eating pureed mango.