On growing up together

 When I was pregnant I remember many people telling me to enjoy eating a meal start-to-finish with both hands. Just wait until you have that little baby interrupting all your meals, they all said, then things get interesting. So I did. I enjoyed my quiet meals with baby-free arms. And then you came and then I learned how to feed two people at once. Sure it was messy at times, but plates and faces and chairs clean up nice with a wet sponge.

When you were just born I remember being oh-so-grateful for your lack of mobility. Just wait until he's crawling, they all said, then things will really get interesting. Well you know what? They did get interesting! Everyday you craved more and more time to explore. So I explored with you (while deftly removing the suddenly life-threatening hardcover books from the shelf above your head).

When you were just crawling I remember being oh-so-grateful that you could still be contained by a stroller when we were out. You would sit happily for at least a few hours as new faces passed you by (or stopped to tell you how cute you were). Just wait until he's walking, they all said, then things will get even more interesting. And you know? You started walking and things did get more interesting. You no longer were happy just riding in the stroller. You. Wanted. Out. You had places to go and feet to use. So we taught you to hold our hand and off we went. It wasn't always the direction we had wanted to go, but somehow we found our way.

Now I am hearing that when you grow up you will ignore me and think I'm stupid and stomp on my heart. And while I'm in no place to say if this will occur or not or to what degree, I find myself with the familiar demands to ENJOY THIS STAGE because the next one will do you in. I can imagine that the next stage and the next stage after that will all pose similar challenges for both of us. You will see things your way, with fresh eyes and a fearless heart. I will see things my way, with 28 years more wisdom and a mother's heart.

But what I've learned so far is that the rewards of being your mother and figuring this out and letting you teach me and being open to the possibility that this may hurt (you. me. both of us.) far outweigh the costs. But let this be known today and everyday forward: I do not enjoy you today out of fear of tomorrow.

I enjoy you today, at this point we're at together, because it is all we have. Maybe you'll throw your cup at me or maybe you'll give me a hug and say Mama. Either way I'll take it for what it is. Another point on our journey of growing up.

Overheard

Scene: In the car, on the way to the Big Bullseye store.

M: Teddy, where's your knee?
T: ::pats his knee::
M: Where's your hair?
T:  ::rubs his head::
M:  Can you say..."Teddy"?
T:  Dada
M: Can you say..."Mama"?
T:  Dada
M: Silly boy! Can you say "Molly"?
T:  Mawee
M: Can you say "Mama"?
T: Dada!

Thankful Thursday

For cupcakes

For nursery rhymes

For connections

For full schedules

For unplanned weekends

Beach Boy

Last year at the beach didn't end so well (sand + wind + 3 month old + sun = not a success). This year was a different story entirely. You! Loved! The! Beach! We got lucky with a string of 80 degree days and we couldn't keep you away from the water for long.

 First steps on the beach

 Little boy, big sky

 Sand in your shorts

This last picture is one of the only ones I have of your front side. You were too busy running straight at the ocean. Your lack of fear both impressed and terrified me. When you took your first wave face first, you barely batted one of those pretty little eye lashes. You were all heart and courage and exploration. I have so much left to learn from you, my little beach boy.

Thankful Thursday

For new years and new chances

For gifts that aren't deserved

For finding the way back into routines

For toaster waffles

For mittens

15 months and things

Bummed this is blurry, but alas, this is a toddler I'm trying to capture.

 1. We are in the middle of a vocab explosion. Just this morning you said "waffle" for the first time. Other new ones include "lion," "go-go" (as in "let's go-go out of here!"), "bus," and "pancake." I'm sure there are a few I'm forgetting...
2. However, your favorite word is still "yogurt."
3. You can bark like a dog after spending 10 days with your great-aunt Brenda's Max in FL.
4. When we sing "The Wheels on the Bus" you often spin in circle. You know, for effect.
5. Only one toy was thrown over Grandma and Pop-pop's balcony in FL. I call that a success.
6. You know both your Grandma's, but boy oh boy, do your Pop-Pop and Papa have your heart right now.
7. You can throw up a mean high-5 on command. 
8. Given all the commotion of the holidays and such, you rolled with the flow. Airports and boats and wheelchairs, oh my.
9. Santa was so very good to you, but your favorite toys still have wheels.

10. Shutting doors is now a fun game. Well, fun for you at least.
11. Aunt Molly is staying with us for a few weeks and has vowed to make you a master sign-er by the end of Jan. As of now, you can sign "more," "help," "diaper," and "sleep."
12. Dad and I are pretty positive you understand at least 75% of what we say. This may or may not scare the beejuzus out of us.
13. Our most recent guess at your weight (courtesy of the old-fashioned scale at Publix in FL): 27lbs.

14. If I walk into a room and find a random shoe (or pair of shoes, usually), I can be 100% positive that it was your doing.
15. The older you get, the more I am amazed by you. By the things you are learning and doing; by the way a heart can grow. 

Staying young is making me old

I've always heard the phrase "having kids around keeps you young." And I do understand this sentiment. Christmas, for example, this year was filled with the anticipation I remember having as a young child. I was so excited for Teddy that I almost believed we should leave cookies out for the big guy in the red suit. You know, just in case??

However, this Christmas I spent 5 hours in the ER after having thrown out my back. It was a big old bummer. We still had Christmas morning breakfast casserole (after I hobbled the 1.25 steps to the table) and opened presents. Teddy had so much fun ripping into the paper with full understanding that there was something inside that would be his. But I wasn't able to sit on the floor with him and swear under my breath help free all those toys from their confining plasticandcardboardandplastictieandfabrictieandscrewedinto boxes.

Instead I spent better part of the mid-day laying flat on my back while a nurse in a santa hat gave me shots and B and I talked about Angry Birds. I cried sad tears because as I laid there I missed my baby and the Christmas that this would not be. I know you will not remember it, and I hope that it fades in my memory too. It's already the new year, which so often means new chances and new hopes and renewed zest. I'm feeling especially optimistic about this year and all the memories we will make that will be worth remembering. First up? Finding time to mail back Grandma's cane I may have needed for a day or so. Then? Finding something equally as embarrassing about your Dad - he's got way too much ammo on me with the whole bent over a cane image in his head.