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.

3 Strikes and Child Services comes a'Knocking

You are almost 2 years old, and I assume by this point you've gathered enough information about me to realize that I am not the world's most "put together" mother. I don't know who is, but I do know that she showers more than twice a week, ALWAYS changes pee pee sheets instead of just throwing a blanket over the wet stain, and has never, EVER done any of the following three things...

1. Forgotten to pack baby's jacket when flying into a Blizzard.


We flew to New York during one of the 37 blizzards they've had this winter. Naturally, as Californians (and as a Minnesotan who has blocked cold weather from her memory), we were plenty concerned with warm clothing. Your dad brought his massive Raiders jacket that could fit 3 eskimos inside. I looked like this:


But your jacket? Forgot it. Your dad shoved you in his coat to keep you warm but mainly to hide you so it didn't look like we had a toddler without a jacket wandering around in a wintry mix of sleet and snow. We made it safely to the hotel, and the next morning I braved the 10-foot high snow drifts in search of a jacket. Did I mention this was the day after Christmas? THE STORES WERE EMPTY! No one had returned anything yet because they were still drunk off blizzard hot toddies. I went to 5 stores before settling on a 12-16 month (you were 21) girl's jacket (you're a boy).

2. Changed baby into shorts on the floor of the NYSE after baby wet his nice "business casual" pants.

A picture of the floor of the New York Stock Exchange is perhaps next to the word "BUSINESS" in the dictionary. Men in suits, women in suits, period. Visitors are asked to dress "business casual." We had the opportunity to visit the floor over Christmas break, and I fussed over making you look like the perfect future stock broker/GQ cover baby. Miiiiiight have paid too much attention to your clothes and maaaaybe forgot to change your morning diaper. By the time we reached the NYSE, you had wet yourself a billion times over. NO MATTER! I AM SUPER MOM! I COME PREPARED! I HAVE BACK-UP CLOTHES! Err, I have back-up clothes for California surfer baby, not future stock broker/GQ cover baby. F. So I was forced to change you into blue sweat shorts for all to see. Don't worry, pictures were taken.


3. Failed to clean up pee on playground equipment with other mothers watching.

Now we're back in California. It's easy and breezy and calm and warm and everything is cool. No need for a jacket, surfer boy back-up shorts a'plenty in the diaper bag... all is right in the world. Until one day we're at the playground and I look down to text your father and I hear, "I think your son is peeing." I look up, and you are peeing. You are peeing on some piece of playground climby thingy. I go to pick you up and realize I have nothing on me, the diaper bag is in the car and the car is far away. I grab you and sort of kick sand over the urine-contaminated spot, avoid eye contact with the other mothers, and run away. It sort of reminded me of this.


p.s. I realize a lot of this letter had to do with pee. What. You pee a lot.

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.

poo poo

I happen to think you are the smartest little boy in the world. Probably because I am your mother but also because you are the smartest little boy in the world. What does this have to do with poo poo? Be patient.

You are so smart, that when I spell your name you say "Yak!" You are so smart, that I can ask you to go find a matching shoe and (sometimes 10 minutes later) you will come back with it.

Now, after you find a weird corner to do your business, you come back to me and say, "poo poo" and tug at your diaper. Naturally, I assume you're taking the first step in potty training yourself. I won't have to do anything. Genius.

(By the way, what, is, this.)