Dear Amy

Dear Amy,

You are THREE years old today. Three. The last three years have gone exceptionally fast, but you definitely been a threenager for a few months now. 

You are stubborn, determined, and persistent when you want something. And you are realllllllly loud when you don't get what you want. But then, when you're not being those things, you are fun, sweet, generous, and hilarious. Basically, you're sweet and spicy and I wouldn't change you one little bit. Not even when you're screaming at me for taking away the chair you were standing on to bang the buttons on the pool controls. That actually happened yesterday. And you cried for a good 30 minutes. 

I went back to look at the last letter I wrote you for your birthday and discovered that I have yet to write a birthday letter for you. And I think that that's one of the reasons you are who you are. You have become the squeaky wheel when you need some grease, and you've had to be exceptionally squeaky with your big brothers and now your little brother around!

Things I want to remember about you:

• Your absolute delight at things you like. You lit up like the candle on your cake when we sang "Happy Birthday" to you at your birthday party on Sunday. 
• How you call Johnny and Hank "my boys". When you wake up next to me (usually) in the morning, sometimes you can hear them downstairs or in the play room and you'll pop up and exclaim "I hear my boys!" and run out of the room to greet them. 
• Equally adorable is how you call your set of plastic princesses from Grandma "my girls". "Mommy, do you know where my girls are?" Pretty stinking cute.
• How your relationship with your Daddy blossomed this year. There are many nights when you rush into his arms when he comes home from work with sheer exhilaration that he is home and you can hug him. You guys have quite the time together. There have been many meandering trips through Vons or slow strolls through the strip mall together, just Amy and Daddy, because Daddy will do nearly anything for you. 
• Your love for sunglasses. You probably own five pairs of sunglasses and you switch them pretty evenly. 
• How you hum the Imperial March from Star Wars sometimes when you're coloring or doing another idle-type activity. Your brothers were huge into Star Wars this year and clearly, a lot of it rubbed off on you. You'll be able to hold your own in a conversation with any Star Wars dork, your brothers and cousin included. 
• The fact that you can and will talk to anyone and everyone, if you feel like it. We went to the Escondido Renaissance Faire a couple of weeks ago and you spent a good two hours in the mermaid cove, talking to and charming the heck out of all of the mermaids there. When Pa and Grams came to visit, you talked and talked and talked to them about everything. Showed them your favorite toys and roped them into playing pretend with you. However, if you aren't feeling like talking, and someone tries to loop you into a conversation, you are NOT going to placate them. Nope. Not a bit. And you might even give them a nasty look and a "huuuuynnh" type noise to boot. 
• Your imagination. You really get into pretend play and want someone (preferably me or Daddy) to play "girls" or "Ponies" with you. When you finally get someone to sit on the floor with you to play, you offer them a choice of which girl or pony they want to be and then say, "Now make them talk!" Johnny has gotten booted from many a play session by playing with your stuff "too funny". You have rules and standards and they must be followed. 
• Your sweetness and care with Mitch. You have been fascinated by him since he arrived, and are constantly asking to hold him or touch him or give him stuff. You desperately want to play with him, but settle for squeezing him a little too hard or running around him in circles while he's doing tummy time or putting a bracelet on his head. You're a fabulous big sister and have been very helpful to me whenever I need a burp cloth or some wipes. You're nearly always ready to help out. 

So many wonderful things to remember, Amy! My hopes for you are that you don't change too much. I think that your stubbornness and persistence will serve you well in the world, but hopefully you'll learn to apply them in more tactful and thoughtful ways! And I hope that you never lose that ability to be vocal about what you need. Too often people, women especially, tend to let themselves be walked over because they're incapable or too uncomfortable to stand up for themselves. If you can speak up in ten or twenty years like you can now, I can guarantee more things will go your way and you will know yourself a lot better than the average person knows themselves. 

I love you so much Amy! Sometimes I have to pinch myself because I can't believe you're ours. You are a bundle of spunky energy and I'm looking forward to another year of you keeping me on my toes! 

Love,

Mommy

Getting back in the saddle

Two of my favorite people, my brother, Dylan, and his girlfriend Lindsay, are leaving at the end of next month. They are off to Michigan to gain more knowledge/experience/cold weather at the University of Michigan and. I could not be prouder of the two of them, truly. However, their leaving means that I need to dust off this blog and get better at posting about the minutia. I promised them I would try. And since I owe them for countless hours of babysitting, not to mention fond memories and a good chunk of my sanity, it's the least I can do. Thus, I downloaded the blogger app to my phone so that I can blog while I nurse Amy to sleep when I'm allowed to take the time to do so. 

So this is my test run to see if this thing actually works! I'll even include a ridiculously adorable picture of Amy in the bath, because CUTE. 

This girl LOVES the bath. Especially now that she can sit. And she gets them way more often now that she's eating solid food. She tends to hoard chunks of watermelon in her onesie and I can tell you firsthand that watermelon has a pretty rank smell to it after sitting in a warm onesie for a few hours. But more on solids later. For now, publish test! 

Dear Hank

Dear Hank,

You turn three today. And I'm not surprised in the slightest.

Honestly, you've astonished everyone in the last year by only being two years old. Most people guessed you were three, some even guessed you were four or five, but no one suspected such a verbal, capable, physically-able child with gigantic feet to be a mere two years old. Which is pretty much the same thing I wrote in your letter to you last year. So really, it's about darn time you turned three!

This past year has brought a lot of depth to your character.

• You started caring about friends and getting excited to see them at various play dates. Blake and Asher and Dax and Drew are your go-to's right now, but you have a pretty good memory for faces and names when you want to remember them. 
• You have started fighting back with emotional warfare when Johnny pushes your buttons. Johnny will say something kind of mean to you and you'll respond in kind, "I'm going to scratch you all over and put you in the trash so the garbage truck can come and take you away!!!" (said with all the vehemence a pissed off 2-year-old can muster... which is a lot). 
• You've gotten really good at negotiations and compromise... when you want to be good at it. Your daddy loves to tell the story of you and Johnny going down to Twin Trails park with him and how you both wanted to ride the push-tricycle. Johnny wanted to ride it all the way to the park and half of the way back, but you said that it would be more fair if Johnny rode it to the park and you rode it home. You've also gotten pretty good at getting a few more minutes at the park/museum/friend's house. I'll say, "Okay guys, do you want to leave in ten minutes or fifteen minutes?" And you'll respond, "Um, how about seventeen minutes?" I nearly always agree. Because what's two minutes in the grand scheme of things?
• Your memory and ability to tell me things you remember is incredible.
• You will nearly always answer questions truthfully, thus I've learned (often the hard way) that if you tell me Johnny went that way because he wanted to see some flowers, then I should believe you. Because you have yet to be wrong about important things like that.
• You've gotten adventurous when trying different foods that you haven't been interested in previously. If Daddy or I are eating something different from what you have, you'll often ask for a bite.
• You have become a little more cautious. You broke your arm this year and have become a little more careful... though I think I may be the only one who notices this change. Everyone else still thinks you're reckless.
• Your favorite movie is now Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. And you will watch it over and over and over.
• You can now build with LEGOs and have even put together a tow truck kit with a little guidance from me. Pretty impressive, actually.
• You can ride a big boy bike with training wheels. Really really fast.

But some things haven't changed.

• You still like me to cuddle with you when you fall asleep at night and you'll often come into bed with me, Daddy, and Amy early in the morning. 
• You LOVE Oreos. Obviously.
• You still enjoy pulling my hair out. Despite my begging and pleading with you to stop.
• You are still obsessed with all things construction. Workers. Trucks. Earth movers. Tower cranes. Caution cones. All of it.
• You love to make messes. And think destroying things is HILARIOUS. 
• You are still thoughtful and kind about certain things, like making crafts for other people. You were so excited to give Daddy his Father's Day card that we made at a play date. Same for the Easter crafts for Grandma and Grandpa. And the Valentine's Day card for Daddy. 

Seriously, kid, your personality has really grown this year. Every day I see more evidence that you "have your own head" as the Germans say. You have your own thoughts about certain things and can be stubborn and impossible to persuade about them. But then everything else? You go with the flow. 

Just an indication of how different you are this year from last year can be seen in your party planning. Last year, I said, "Do you want a construction party?" and you said, "Yeah." Then I went down the list of people to invite and you just said "yes" to all of them. This year? I asked what kind of a party you wanted and you said "Lego party." I tried to persuade you to have a Play-doh party or maybe a balloon party, but no. Legos it is. Then we made the list of people to invite and you came up with 75% of the names yourself. And then you even turned some people down when I suggested them! Not something that would have happened last year, but I love that you've become selective with the people you want to be close to you.

And I love that you have strong opinions on things. Really, I do. Yes, it's exasperating when you want to have Oreos for dinner and NOTHING ELSE WILL DO, but I know that eventually your insistence on such trivial things will change to be insistence on things that matter. 

I also love that you have a sense for fun. You can have fun anywhere doing practically anything. You're game for all sorts of activities from learning to throw a frisbee to painting a canvas. It makes you a lot of fun to be around. 

I hope that ability to find fun wherever you are never changes. And I hope that you are persistent in keeping fun in your life, no matter what you are doing. 

Oh, Hank. I love you so much. Even when we have a tough day, know that I love you and still think that I'm incredibly lucky to be your mom. And hopefully, at the end of those tough days, you're still okay with being my son. :) 

I love you buddy!

Love,

Mommy

Dear Johnny

Dear Johnny,

Yet again, I am apologizing for being late with your birthday letter. This year, though, your sister is my excuse. Her arrival three weeks before your birthday kind of threw me for a loop. You will understand this loop I speak of one day.

For now, though, you are four. You have traveled around the sun four times on this spinning rock of ours. And wow, was this last trip through space a doozy.

Age three was a tough one for us both, to be completely honest. I mentioned in your three-year-old letter that you have your own preferences and personality and are incredibly independent. None of that changed... you just got more vocal about it all. Really vocal. And stubborn, too. You really made it clear this past year that you are your own person and nothing and nobody was going to change that.

You spent a lot of time this year being very particular about how you wanted things to be and how they should be done by everyone around you. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out on which things I should follow your lead and on which I should put my foot down. I remember driving to the zoo one morning and you insisted that we go under a bridge, then over a bridge, then over, then under, etc, all the way to Balboa Park. Unfortunately, that's not exactly possible when driving on the freeway. Cue epic screaming tantrum from the backseat.

There were a lot of epic screaming tantrums this year. And there were a lot of Mommy tantrums as well, though usually internal. For a long time, I had no idea how to respond to your freak outs. Nothing I did seemed to help. Eventually, I just realized that you needed to be pulled closer and feel more connection. I mean, you still wanted to get your blue bowl out "the first time", and there wasn't much I could do to make it the first time again, but you responded better to Daddy and me loving you while you got your feelings out than being ignored.

That was the biggest lesson you taught me this year: Love is always better.

And what an important, yet simple, lesson that is.

So I spent a lot of time and effort working on gently guiding you through life with love and setting limits with love and helping you through your big emotions with love and guess what? It's really helped our relationship. For a while there, we were losing each other. Spending the whole day listening to you scream about the red plate that was dirty or the first time you couldn't have back was making me crazy. And looking at things from your perspective, having a mother that didn't empathize with your sadness over the dirty red plate you couldn't have or comfort you through your frustration over not getting something the first time had to be hard for you, too.

But guess what? We did it. You made me a better person this year in so many ways, as you have every year of your life.

Tantrums notwithstanding, I think the thing I will remember most from this past year is how gracefully you became Amy's big brother. You had already done the big brother thing with Hank, but this time you really got it. And you accepted it. And now you love it. Seeing you love Amy so much is wonderful, it really is. Even when I'm asking you to stop sucking on her cheeks and to get up because you're squishing her a little, just know that I think the love you have for your little sister is beautiful. I really hope that it stays that way.

The smaller, tinier things I want to remember from this year of your life are:

• How good you've gotten at sitting still and smiling for the camera when I ask you to.
• Your excitement over seeing your family members. You have gotten everyone's names down and remember everyone from visit to visit. (I will also never forget when you said to Grandma, "See ya, Gail!" It was hilarious.)
• The look on your face when you ride the bike you got for Christmas. You're pretty cautious at first, but once you get used to a certain course, look out! You will get going rather fast on that bike of yours and the look of exhilaration on your face is priceless.)
• The stories you make up about your creations. You make structures out of Duplo blocks, couch cushions, Magnatiles, just about anything! They all have functions and you tell everyone about the things you made at home and what they do. Like the really tall tower crane you made out of Duplos. Or the drill truck/tow truck/flatbed truck, also from Duplos. Or the mechanic shop you made from Magnatiles. Your imagination has really exploded this year and it is so much fun.
• You can't keep your pants on your hips, so your butt crack is constantly hanging out. It's ridiculously cute. Promise.
• You spent nearly three whole months completely naked. And then somehow that morphed into your ditching diapers. Once you decided were finished with them, you were finished with them. Easy as that (kind of). 
• You and Hank started sharing a room this year and you completely surprised your dad and me by being okay with the whole thing. You seem to really enjoy sharing a room with your brother. Go figure.
• Smashburger played a big role in our lives this year due to my exhaustion from pregnancy and also due to your love for their chicken and fries. With too much ketchup.
• Your obsession with gas, gas stations, and car washes.
• They way you wear fancy black dress shoes and call them "boots". You correct EVERYONE who calls them shoes. "They're not shoes, they're boots."

There were so many good times with you this year. So many small moments that I will cherish forever. You had so many firsts this year, as well as a lot of lasts.

I love you so much, Johnny. If could have any four-year-old in the world, I would pick you. Every time.

Love,
Mommy

Dear Hank

Dear Hank,

Today you are two. Gosh, just typing out that sentence brought tears to my eyes. Which is silly, because, let's face it, you're an old two. Strangers out and about are always shocked when I tell them that you're "not quite two" because they think you are closer to four.

You seem older than you are because you are so darn capable, kid.

• You can follow directions with the best of them. 
• You can get your own milk out of the refrigerator (after moving the step stool over since the shelves are kind of high). 
• You can climb every possible ladder at the park. Even if it seems like you shouldn't be physically capable of it.
• You can get your own snacks. 
• You can have yourself pants-less and diaper-less in four seconds flat. 
• You can carry your plate or bowl full of food to the table all by yourself. 
• You can tell me exactly what you want, using correct pronouns.
• You can carry on conversations with your brother. And know exactly how to tell him that you don't like what he's doing. And then you can tell me exactly what happened when Johnny did something you didn't like. 

You're truly amazing. When I went back to read posts from last year when you turned one, it just reminded me of how much you have learned and changed this past year. I would read one post and think "When did that change?" or "I barely even remember that."

I love you to pieces, but I wish you wouldn't grow so quickly.

Gone are the days of countless hours of peek-a-boo. Gone is the fixation with rubber duckies. Gone is the uncoordinated toddler running.

And now you're obsessed with building towers. And train tracks. And playing with cars. And making art. And watching videos about construction trucks on YouTube. All things that big kids like. You're only two! How can you be a big kid already?

But I don't want to change you. Because you are perfect the way you are, and will always be perfect to me.

That doesn't mean that I can't wish certain things wouldn't change. Like how much delight you find in making me a cake at your pretend kitchen and how hard you laugh when I pretend to eat it. Or how you always stop to smell and pick flowers when we go on walks. Or how you give my belly a kiss randomly and say "I kissed the baby!". Or how when you feel bad or get hurt, you want your mommy and no one else will do.

I know in my head that a day will come when you will run to others for comfort or help. I know already that's going to be hard for me to take, but understand that even though I wish these things to stay the same, I also know that's impossible because I also want you to grow up. And growing up means you have to pull away from me a little. And that's okay.

I love you so much, Hank. I cannot wait to see what this year will bring for you!

Love,
Mommy

Happy Father's Day!

 For John's Father's Day present, I did a little photo shoot of the boys wearing shirts they picked out themselves (yes, I know Johnny picked a pink shirt and no, I don't think it will affect his masculinity). I didn't get a single shot of both of them looking at the camera, but I got a couple that are frame-worthy.

We changed venues because I didn't like the look of our couch in the background. So here we are, in our garage.

This is the one I framed for John's office. Hence the color correction and nice cropping.

Happy Father's Day, John! I love watching you interact with our boys on a daily basis. You're a patient teacher, a great listener and excellent entertainer. I appreciate you so much, even when I'm too exhausted to notice that you've emptied the dishwasher for me, cleaned up the spilled milk or changed some nasty diapers. I love you!

In a good place

Sometimes I get a little crazy. Anyone who knows me even marginally well knows this to be true. I get all moody because I don't get enough sleep or because I haven't eaten a hot meal in months or perhaps because THIS IS THE SIXTH PUDDLE OF PEE I'VE CLEANED UP IN THE LAST TWO HOURS. And too often I let that craziness color the rest of my day.

And that's sad. It's the way I am, cynical and often negative, but I'm trying to kick myself out of it when I get funky.

I have to remember that I have it pretty great right now. I have two rambunctious boys who love to run around together and will even play with the same toys occasionally. They have even been known to build towers together or race cars across the floor. And now, they're even getting the sharing thing a little bit. Enter this heartwarming moment:

Hank is holding a stack of eight LEGO flowers, telling John and me the color of each one. 
Hank: And red and yellow and blue and red and yellow and green and...
Johnny: Give me that Hank!
Hank: No! I want it!
Me: Remember Johnny, ask Hank nicely when you want something he has and maybe he'll share with you.
Johnny: Hank, can I have the flowers, please?
Hank: No!
Me: Okay, Johnny, Hank said no. So would you please wait your-
Hank hands Johnny two flowers.
Me: Oh! Hank gave you some flowers!
Johnny: Thank you, Hank!

Seriously. It was adorable. Hank was sharing with Johnny and Johnny was appreciative. It may seem like such a small thing to you, but to me? It was ground-breaking. We go over and over that dialogue tons of times in a day and to see it finally sinking in and them resolving things nearly on their own? Without violence? Priceless.

One of the best things about the boys being this age is we can go to parks and they can find things to entertain themselves. Johnny will climb the structures and go down all of the slides. Hank spends his time climbing things he shouldn't be able to climb and playing in the sand. Since they're occupied with their own exploration, I can even sit down for five minutes here or there. It's bliss. Pure bliss.

Things aren't perfect, but they're not bad. Which should be my mantra.

And now, a cute picture. Because that was wordy and I know all you care about is the photo. :)

Reading bedtime stories together in Hank's room. Johnny was reading Goodnight Moon to me and Hank. :)

Dear Johnny

Dear Johnny,

I know this is a little late in coming. We're nearly one month past your 3rd birthday and I feel awful for not doing this on time. I keep trying to remind myself that three weeks late is better than never and it's not like it will matter in the grand scheme of things. When you go back to read these one day, three weeks will seem like a trivial amount of time. At least I hope so. And if not... well, there's nothing I can do about it now anyway.

You are 3 years old, now, kid. Kid! You are definitely a kid now. Gone is my baby with the gurgling noises and spindly legs. Gone is my toddler on unsteady feet, barreling through space head first, usually into the ground. And now here you are, a child with your own personality and preferences and opinions.

You have always been independent, but this last year has been an even bigger exhibit of that on-my-own attitude than the previous two. On one hand, I love that you can enjoy your own company and have no problem filling your alone time. It has been vastly useful to me since I often have to leave you to your own devices to deal with Hank for nap time or bed time or to do something pressing like put groceries away. I'll tell you what I'm going to do and that I'll see you in a few minutes and you will nod and traipse off to the play room or your bedroom to spell words or play games that only you understand.

On the other hand, it's been hard to watch you grow away from me. You need me for so much less now than you did last year. You take your clothes off by yourself (whenever you want), you open your own snack containers (whenever you want) and can buckle yourself into your car seat (whenever you want, even if I'm in a hurry). It seems so silly because I want you to learn to do things on your own; I want you to be self-sufficient and learn to put on and take off your clothes and get your own snacks and operate safety devices. I want you to learn to cook one day and read on your own and ride a bike. But I also want you to need me. It's difficult to have such conflicting feelings about your growing independence. I'm so proud of you when I see you reading words from a book that you recently learned, but I also realize that every word you learn for yourself is one less word I will get to read to you in the future. Such is the burden of being a mother, I suppose.

To be honest, your independence and desire to be alone made me worry about you. A lot. Why do you want to spend all of your time in your room with the door closed when we host play dates? Why do you beg to leave when we're at someone else's home? Why don't you enjoy the company of other children your age? I wondered if something I was doing or not doing was making you antisocial, especially with so many people around me talking about sending their kids to day care or preschool a couple of days a week to "socialize" them. And then, snap! You made your first friend, Blake. I will never forget the day you retreated to your room, as usual, during a play date at our house for toddlers Hank's age. I was worried that you were going to go ballistic when Blake made to follow you up the stairs, but then I heard you say, "Do you want to go in my room, Blake?" And then you two went into your room and closed the door. When I checked on you, you were sharing sacred letters with your friend and reading books together. That was the day when I knew you were going to be okay. You were indeed social, but you were going to do things on your own terms.

And boy, do you do things on your own terms.

You have your own ideas about how to want to do things and where you want to go and for how long. I've learned not to touch any letters or numbers you're putting in order, not even to help. I've gotten over the fact that we're not going to see any animals at the zoo, but we are going to visit every guidance pole with a number at the top from 1 to 18. I've learned that at SeaWorld, you want to do the Bay of Play, lunch with the sea lions, and then running on the field, in that order. And when you say you want to go to the bumpy slide park, NO OTHER PARK WILL DO.

I've also learned, however, that while you prefer to stick with the familiar, you usually enjoy seeing something new, even though you won't ask for it. In fact, you usually fight with me about it. Like when I dragged you over to see Shamu underwater, you were not thrilled to be skipping out on the running in the field. But once we got there you were delighted by the killer whales and have asked to go there every time we've been back.

I hope that with time you will learn that I have your best interests at heart and will begin to trust me when I want you to try something new.

But I also hope that you don't forget how to assert your own opinion. I want you to have a voice in how your days go and a decision on what things you decide to do. The last thing I want for you is do something just because someone else says it's important/cool/necessary and no other reason. I want you to be the judge of what is important.

I may or may not regret saying that later.

The point is, Johnny, I love who you are. You are sweet to your family (even Hank), good at compromising, incredibly smart, and so much fun. Yes, sometimes you can be stubborn and completely unreasonable, but most of us can be that way sometimes. It just means you're human. A little human that can make me laugh one second and erupt with frustration the next. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Well, maybe I could do with a little less frustration, but I'll take the good with the bad.

Happy birthday, Johnny! I love you.

Love,
Mommy

The big 3-oh

 Dear John,

Happy 30th birthday, love! I thought I'd write you a quick (and public) letter to commemorate your 30th birthday. And to also let you know how much I love you. So bookmark this for those days when I snap at you at 4:30 in the morning after being up all night.

You are the best parenting partner I could ask for. When I'm having a rough day, you let me call you, say lots of angry things about life and then hang up. While I know I feel better afterward, I know it is probably uncomfortable for you, and yet you always pick up my calls. When I'm over analyzing parenting decisions, I know that I can turn to you and you will join me in my over-analyzation. Or you'll calm me down by telling me that just because I let Johnny watch Toy Story 3 for an hour doesn't mean he will turn into a serial killer later in life.

You are an incredibly thoughtful husband. You are constantly putting me first and thinking about how the things you do and say will affect me, even though that's not something I usually do for you. You bring me flowers for no reason. You won't hesitate to order pizza or pick up food on the way home when you know I'm stressed out or just too exhausted to even think about making food. And you never complain about it.

You give me more credit than I am due. Yes, this stay at home mom gig is tough, but you always tell me how much you appreciate me doing it and constantly talk about what a great job I'm doing. In a job that doesn't have evaluations or report cards to tell you how you are doing, that feedback helps more than you know.

You are my best friend, without a doubt. I can tell you anything and everything and never have to think twice about whether I should tell you or not.

With all of the things you do for me, I wish I was better about doing some things for you.

• I wish I told you more often what a phenomenal provider you are, in all things. Not only working for a living, but providing love and attention for our boys, putting forth the effort to keep up our house and prioritizing those obnoxious little things I want you to do even if you just want to sit down and relax for a second.
• I wish I was better about doing things for you without you having to ask. 
• I wish I was better about leaving our kids with someone else so we can have more one-on-one time. I know we'll have more time together as the kids get older, but it's pretty brutal right now having only a few minutes in the evening to recap our days and reconnect.

I love you, John! I'm looking forward to hanging out with you for the next 30 years. :) Happy 30th birthday!

Love,
Your wife

Dear Hank

You are now one whole year old. As Johnny says, "Hank now one! Not zero." No, my little guy, you're not "zero" anymore.

This first year with you has been an important one, not just because you have blossomed from a (not-so) teeny tiny newborn into a full-blown walking child, but also because I feel like I have finally blossomed as a mother.

You have taught me to let go of all of the things I think I need to do and just sit and play with my boys. Yes, there are cobwebs and dust bunnies and dried splotches of food all over the house, but I've learned not to worry about it. And I'm a much happier person because of it. When I used to sit and watch you and Johnny play I would feel incredible guilt that I should be doing something more "productive" like keeping the house clean or making dinner or folding laundry. But then you started growing so fast and I felt like the ten minutes I spent cleaning were a waste of time if that meant I'd miss out on what you and Johnny were doing.

You have taught me that I actually do know what I'm doing. I figured out early on what each of your cries meant, which is something that I'm not sure I ever learned with Johnny. I learned what you needed to fall asleep and what you needed to feel comforted. I feel so in tune with you that I almost always know what it is you need at that moment. And you have rewarded all of my hard-won knowledge with great big smiles and cuddles just for me.

You have taught me that I can handle being exhausted. Yes, I still get pretty moody after a weeks' worth of night wakings, but I now know that I can keep you and your brother alive and happy even though I feel like I'm about to keel over from exhaustion. There was a time when I was sure that I needed 8 hours of sleep a night; now I know better.

You have taught me so many things, Hank, which is amazing considering you're my second child. I'm told that one of the unfortunate things about being the second-born is the lapse in memory when it comes to various personality quirks and milestones. So here are things I want to remember about you in your first year:
- The look of complete and utter admiration whenever Johnny walks in the room. In the morning, when Johnny comes downstairs for breakfast, you have a huge smile on your face and a squeal of glee just for him.
- Your "monster" noise that you make and how you laugh so hard after I do it, too. You've even learned to do it after Daddy sings, "Hey, Hey, I feel like a monster!"
- How badly you want to try all of my food. Whatever I'm eating, you want a piece of it.
- The way you point at birds, balloons, lights and fans and say, "Bubble!" so clearly. And then when you want to go outside to play with bubbles you say, "Bo bubble!"
- How you need to be bounced (well, squatted is more like it) and patted on the back in order to fall asleep for naptime or bed time.
- Your back-arching, twisting, kicking fits that you throw whenever I have to change your diaper.
- How you soothe by pulling out large handfuls of my hair.
- How well you entertain yourself with our little play kitchen and all of our toys in the playroom. I could spend hours watching you open a cabinet, take something out, show it to me and tell me something about it, and then put it in a different drawer. Over and over again.
- How you run to Daddy when he gets home from work and give him a big hug.
- How well you fit in my lap when you snuggle in to read bedtime stories.

You will change as you grow, I know this from watching Johnny, but I hope that your interest in the world never wanes, along with your desire to drop whatever you're doing and give me a hug if I ask for one. It has been a wonderful year to be your Mommy, Hank, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I love you.

Love,
Mommy

Dear Johnny

Dear Johnny,

On Tuesday you turned two. Two whole years old. Why does that sound so old to me? You've only been here on this planet for two years and yet, I feel like it's been so much longer. I have fit more smiles, laughs, tears, hugs and kisses into the last two years than I did in the previous ten all because of you, Johnny.

You make me laugh so hard with your constantly developing vocabulary and grammar skills. You're stringing funny words into sentences that makes me think, "Where did you learn that?" Just yesterday I asked if you wanted to take a bath or a shower and you responded, "No bath. And no shower either." Just like that. Perhaps when you are old enough to read this post, that little response will seem so trivial, but I can tell you that it's huge, considering this time last year you weren't uttering a single intelligible syllable.

You make me want to hug and kiss you (almost) all the time. The way you come out of your room after your nap with sheet marks on one cheek, a dazed smile on your face and Blankee in hand makes me want to swoop you up and kiss you until you giggle uncontrollably. How you say, "Mommy come play you!" when you want me to come upstairs and hang out with you makes my heart melt. And the way you hold my hand when we're in a parking lot or crossing the street makes me feel all gooey inside.

You make me want to cry sometimes, too. Those times when you choose Daddy or Grandma or Grandpa over me makes my heart break a little, but I've been trying really hard not to let you see it; I certainly don't want to guilt you into choosing me. The rare times when you're trying so hard to get me to understand something and your frustration at me bubbles over into tears makes me feel like an awful mommy. Those times when it's obvious how fast you are growing up and will one day leave me behind to start your own family. Such a sad thought, and yet so happy as well.

Even though I think a lot about your future, it's the present that really matters to me. There are so many things you do that I want to remember, but it's like trying to hold water in your hands as it runs out of a faucet. You do so many new things every day that I forget what you did this morning to make room in my brain for everything you've done this afternoon.

In ten years I want to remember that you have a penchant for whole grain bagels smeared with cream cheese and how you need to have a napkin nearby when you eat them because you hate having wet stuff on your hands.

In ten years I want to remember how you walked like Frankenstein for a few days when I finally got you to wear a pair of shoes with a hard sole on them.

In ten years I want to remember how you enjoyed holding Hank for a couple of seconds and then would push him away from you saying, "Nuff!" after you were over it.

In ten years I want to remember your curiosity when it comes to letters and numbers and how you love this particular part of the "Elmo" DVD where there's a countdown from 10 to 1.

There are all of these little things that make up our days together that are so everyday and normal now, but will eventually become precious if I can manage to hold onto those memories. All I can hope for in the next year is that our days together will be just as full as the last 365 have been.

Johnny, you have made my life so much fuller by being a part of it and I wouldn't trade a single minute from the last two years for anything in the world.

Thank you for being my son, Johnny. Happy 2nd birthday.

Love,
Mommy

Toddlerhood rules

I just put Johnny down for his afternoon nap and he actually fell asleep on me. While he curled up in "stink bug" position on my chest and stomach, I just rocked with him and thought about how far we have come in the last 15 months.

I don't think it's a secret that I'm not a baby person. Or if it is... surprise! I'm not a baby person. Do I think they are adorable? Yes. Do I love holding a freshly baked newborn? Totally. But being the mother of an infant was/is not my thing.

I started out as a mother very short on both patience and experience; I had never even held a baby before (well, I guess I held my brothers, but I was way too young to learn from that) and didn't have any close friends or relatives with children. I thought that being a teacher would help me in the patience arena and it may have, but it certainly wasn't enough to keep me sane and level-headed most of the time. The times that Johnny was fussy, I would get frustrated pretty quickly if I couldn't figure out what was wrong. Then I didn't appreciate the times when he was "quiet alert" because I was bored out of my mind with a newborn who just wanted to look at colors and patterns. I'm not trying to be hard on myself for how I acted when Johnny was new, I'm just looking back on what I remember and most of what I remember is being either frustrated, tired, or bored... and guilty for feeling any of that.

Now? A complete 180. I LOVE being the mom of a toddler. Do I have to chase Johnny around a lot? Yes. Do I have to protect him from himself and then endure the ensuing tantrum? Of course. But I love it. Most of it is that I have finally gotten to know my child and figure out what he wants most of the time. Many times that means having to be the "mean mommy" and keep that glass bottle/sharp knife/dog poop away from him. I like being able to take him to the zoo or the park and have him explore new places by himself (supervised, of course). I like watching him interact with other kids and adults. I like watching his mind work when he's trying to figure something out.

Granted, it's not all warm and fuzzy all the time. When he fights a nap or when he throws a tantrum because I won't let him bring his prized mop upstairs, it gets a little rough, but now I can handle it. He's finally instilled me with lots of patience and given me many experiences to make me the mom I am now. I'm more able to go with the flow and not resent the fact that my life has been taken over by a 25-lb human. I'm not jealous of John "getting" to go to work every day and escape the house. I feel like I can (usually) fill our days with meaningful and somewhat productive activities and not just kill time until I get to go to bed. There are still days when I long for a classroom, to teach a subject that I love, and to eat lunch in peace, but I think that's part of being a stay-at-home-mom.

For the first time ever, while I rocked my sleeping toddler, I came to terms with being a full-time mom  and was actually happy about it.

First steps

I guess the biggest event of our east coast trip for the holidays (besides Christmas itself, of course) was that Johnny took his first steps the day after Christmas.

We were snowed in at John's Aunt Carol's house (yay snow!) and so we had spent the day lounging around, eating leftovers and trying to keep Johnny entertained. That night he was standing at the coffee table playing with an empty plastic bottle and a few plastic cups. He was trying to put the cups on top of the plastic bottle, when I took the bottle and moved a few feet away. With arms outstretched, a cup in one hand, Johnny let go of the table and took two steps on his own before falling into my arms. Everyone in the room started cheering and in my hormonal state I started crying.

I am so happy that walked to me first. If it had been anyone else (except for John, of course) it would have been heartbreaking for me. It seems Johnny knew that because despite every one else trying to him to walk to them first, he took his first steps toward his Mommy.

And now, he walks more frequently (especially when he's not thinking about it), but it's still not the preferred method of movement.

Dear Johnny

Dear Johnny,

You turned one year old last Monday and it has taken me a whole week to figure out what I want to say in a letter to you... or maybe it took me a whole week to recover from the elevated noise level in this house. Anyway.

I can't say that I've had an easy time learning how to be your mom, not because you were a difficult baby, but I guess because I wasn't prepared for the huge life shift that occurred when you arrived. I don't think you will comprehend how totally and completely you changed my life until you have your own child. There are not words to describe the experience of giving birth to you and watching you learn everything from head control, to feeding yourself to moving on your own. It has been a challenge learning how to mold my life around yours and to forgo my own identity and desires to meet your wants and needs. I'd like to say I'm better at it now than I was a year ago, but you're going to continue to test me in new ways and I'm going to have to figure out how best to meet those challenges.

While you have learned how to be a person this year, I have learned how to be a mommy.

While you will continue to fall and make mistakes as you grow and learn, I will also falter and make errors in judgment as I continue to grow and learn.

All I ask is that you forgive me for anything you may remember later in life... hopefully what they say about childhood trauma does not have anything to do with forgetting to change your diaper until you are totally soaked from your belly button down... but I digress.

I appreciate how much you laugh and smile at me when I do something silly and I love that you are such a busybody. Yes, sometimes I get irritated that you figured out how to open our childproofed cabinets or that you found those scissors I was SURE were in a different place, but I suppose that's all part of being a boy-mom, right? Hopefully you won't be teaching these inconvenient behaviors to your sibling who will be coming along shortly. I'm so excited to see how you fall into your role as big brother (and really hope you learn the command to be "gentle" before we bring home a newborn). I can't wait to see how you two interact and play with each other and if you will protect him/her because you are the big brother. Just remember that I won't love you any less because there is a new baby in the house and I hope you remember that forever.

I hope that you retain your sense of adventure and enjoy exploring new places as much as you do now.

I hope that you continue to find pleasure in the small things like bubbles and dogs.

I hope that you will always laugh when I'm trying to be funny... even when you get older and my jokes are just corny.

I hope that you enjoy being my son as much as I enjoy being your mommy.

I love you very much, Johnny, and can't wait to see what the next year brings!

Love,
Mommy