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Yesterday I spent the day in Massachusetts at my friend’s bridal shower. It was lovely to leave the mommy world for an afternoon and spend some time with some girlfriends and some mimosas. I was gone seven hours — the longest I’ve been apart from Ryan to date — and as much as I love my boys, I’ll admit that I didn’t miss them all that much. Mama needed a break. And enjoyed eating two (TWO!) cupcakes without having to share.
Practically everyone at the shower was wearing either blue, stripes, or a combination of the two, so I fit right in wearing a navy and white striped maxi dress which I bought a few days before at — well let’s just go ahead and get it out in the open. I bought the dress at Wet Seal. The store is across from the bookstore I was buying the shower gift in and I figured I would pop across the way and see if they had any cute inexpensive jewelry. They didn’t, but they did have the dress all cute and cheap at $16, and so I bought it. Thirty years old shopping at Wet Seal. Ahem.
Anyway, while I was at the party, the bride’s sister came up to me (Hi, Ronnie!) and was all, would you update your blog already? She told me she checks daily to see if I’ve written, and since I’ve gone so long in between posts lately, I basically figured no one was reading anyway. It was nice to hear at least one person was, so it kicked my butt into gear.
I’ve just had a touch of the Blog-itis lately. Life is happening — and quickly — and I just haven’t been able to put it down in words. Ryan is nine months going on, oh, who knows. The kid just wants to be big. He’s all over the house. Mostly backwards crawling and some sort of unofficial frontwards army crawl. It’s not what I would call traditionally crawling, but it does the job. When he’s not doing that, he wants to stand, stand, stand, and has started to cruise the furniture ever so slowly. Yesterday he took my cheeseburger right off my plate and ate it. It’s probably second-time-around parenting, because I never would have let Owen do that, but I barely even blinked. Instead, I broke some up into tiny pieces and let him have at it.
Owen is almost three and he’s busy, and loud, and smart, and sassy, and infuriating, and fresh, and amazing, and awesome. Looking at pictures from even just six months ago makes my heart ache a little because he has changed so quickly. He thought I looked “sooooo beautiful” in my Wet Seal dress, though, so that’s pretty cool.
Me? I’ve been getting into photography lately and have really enjoyed photographing my friends’ children along with my own. It’s become a fun hobby for me and one that gives me an outlet beyond the daily stuff.
Ryan and my dad
The other day I uttered the words, why is the baby under the ottoman covered in poop?
That’s life, y’all.
Dear Ryan,
Hello there, my little due date baby. Today you have been out exactly as long as you were in. How we’ve already reached this mark is beyond me.
You are a joy, Ry Ry. From your sunny demeanor to your silly mohawk (which has earned you the nickname “Mohawka”), you completely brighten our lives. Watching you grow has been really fun. I naively thought that the second child would be so much like the first, that each time you do something uniquely you, I am surprised by it.
You continue to be a great sleeper, which is — wow. I mean, thank you for that. Your two naps are usually 1.5-2 hours long and if you go to bed at six that’s a late night. You wake usually just once at night to nurse and then sleep at least till seven. In the morning, I bring you to bed and after you nurse, you are all about your Dada. Owen will have joined us by then, and watching the two of you climb all over your daddy is the highlight of my day.
Your first word came right before you turned eight months old. It was Mama, and I’m not sure there’s a better sound than your child first speaking your name. Your tiny voice reminds me a lot of how Owen’s used to sound, so it’s a treat on multiple levels for me to hear it. It’s adorable, but you quickly learned that you can yell it from your crib, and so you do, at 3 a.m. “Mamamamamamama. Mama! MAMA!!!” Soon after, you followed with O-wa (Owen), yay, hiii, and most recently, Dada. I’m pretty sure you’re working on dog as well. You also clap your hands all day long and wave to people when you see them, and have recently started to give real hugs. Those are pretty awesome, kiddo.
You are going to be my daredevil, I just know it. You are seconds away from officially crawling, but you’ve been on your hands and knees for a while now and maneuver around the house pretty well. The other day I left you on the living room rug and moments later found you under the end table a few feet away. I was pretty sure it was going to be Owen’s waffle that finally inspired you to move your knees, but in the end I wouldn’t be surprised if you crawled first to the dog.
You refuse to sit still any longer, and will try and swan dive out of our arms to explore. We had to lower your crib mattress as you are now pulling up to your knees. You should have seen your face when I first discovered you like that — so full of pride and cheekiness.
You have solid food about three times a day now. Oatmeal, sweet potatoes, squash, zucchini, spinach, pears, peas, apple sauce and yogurt are some of your favorites. You don’t really enjoy bananas. Your pincher grasp is great and you eat puffs, diced fruit and shredded cheese like a pro, and pretty much have the sign for “more” down pat. You’ve pretty much mastered the cup, too, and do that funny frat boy chug with your water. You have yet to cut a tooth, though!
Owen remains your very best friend and I can see how hard you try to imitate him. Your whole face lights up when he enters a room and you shake and squirm until you can reach him. If he leaves, you crane your head and yell “O-WA!” until he comes back. You have baby toys, but would much rather play with his trucks or blocks. You already steal toys from each other and have started to wrestle. It’s quite the glimpse into our future.
According to our home scale, you are just over 20 pounds. I had to weigh you twice because your brother was 19 pounds at four months and I have a hard time believing you aren’t bigger. I guess we will find out for sure at your well visit next week, even though I can see you are certainly not the chunker he was.
You are a love, Ryan. From your little laugh to your great big smile, I couldn’t have asked for a better second baby. I can’t believe my next letter will be wishing you a happy first birthday!
I love you through and through, Chickie.
Love,
Mama
Dear Owen,
Last week your Mema asked you where you came from, and you replied, all matter of fact, from my Mommy.
I sat there momentarily stunned by your answer. As the story goes, my first response to that question was from the moon, so the fact that you included me in your answer surprised me. As you approach your third birthday, the things you come up with are really starting to blow my mind. I think you’re too smart for your own good sometimes.
This is still a tough age behavior-wise. You continue to assert your independence and be willful and make me wish day drinking was acceptable. While some days it feels like all we do is deal with that side of you, there really is so much more to who you are right now.
Like how each day you become an even better big brother. You are a mini-mommy and will do anything in your power to make Ryan laugh. He adores you, Owen, he really does. I can only hope this is just the beginning of a magical lifelong relationship between you two. He has recently started calling you by name on occasion — “Oh-wa-wa”. Considering he hasn’t even said “Dada” yet (poor Daddy), I would say you hold quite the spot in his heart.
You have become a loud and rambunctious boy, which is a 180 from the quiet toddler you used to be. Watching you play with other kids, dance and tumble has been really fun. You love to color and play with Playdoh, play instruments (especially your mini piano and anything you can make into a drum) and sing. OH, do you love to sing. There is a song by a band called Mumford & Sons that you adore. Every day you make me put it on and sing “I WILL WAIT FOR YOUUUU!” at the top of your lungs while headbanging to their banjo playing. Don’t worry, I have it on video to embarrass you with for the rest of your life, though really, I think it’s adorable. You are LOUD, and like to zoom things, and slam things and jump on things and whoa, are you a boy or what?
You are really into words and letters right now. You’ve known your alphabet for as long as I can remember, but now you want to know which one begins each word. You like to practice the sounds they make and I can’t hide my pride each time you get one right. “La-la-la-LOVE. Love starts with ‘L’!”
You ARE a love, buddy. The sweetest boy. As your grow and change before my eyes, sometimes I have to remind myself that you’ve only been here for less than three years. You’re so big, but still little.
I love you through and through, Bug.
Love,
Mommy
If you’ve been reading a while you probably have read a few posts by my friend Sara. Mama to two of the cutest boys I’ve ever seen with the biggest blue eyes imaginable, she’s back today sharing one of her favorite Little Moments.
Some days are hard days. They did not sleep, they would not nap and their “listening ears” are clearly on the fritz.
Some days are frustrating days. You are sleep training or potty training or “mama’s computer is not a toy” training.
Some days you can’t find a sitter, or a sneaker, or the calm person you once were.
Some days you miss an appointment, miss a flight, or miss your husband.
Then there is this day. The day you go to get your three-year old from his nap and he beams proudly, “Mama, I got you some flowers.”
My dear sweet child…these are the days.
Oh, hey. It’s been a while since I complained about Owen’s sleep, huh? I bet you missed it. Well you’re in luck. Here’s another installment of My Child Is Trying to Kill Me With Sleep Deprivation. Part 475.
Actually, I don’t know. There isn’t THAT much to say about it, other than he occasionally wakes up just briefly enough at night that I need to go in there and tuck him back in. That’s fine, it really is, but it’s usually an hour or so before or after Ryan wakes to eat, so I’m not falling back asleep long enough on either end for my night to be restorative.
Wait, scratch that. It would be restorative if he wasn’t also waking up FOR THE DAY between 5 and 5:30. Some days — the good days — it’s six. Six I can sort-of handle, but five? No. No I can not. I blame it on him being potty trained. He wakes up, has to go, and that’s the end of sleeping. I can’t tell you how many mornings I’ve spent semi-conscious on the couch while he is plugged in to Sesame Street with his milk and cereal. Usually around 7 he will decide that’s enough rest for me and start poking me in the face or something. The only saving grace is that Ryan usually sleeps until at least then, sometimes almost 8, so I don’t have to worry about him. The days he gets up early, though, I pretty much want to die.
I know from past experience that this is just another stage and that if all else fails, in another few months or so he will be able to go to the bathroom completely on his own with no help needed from me. Maybe by then he can even grab himself some cereal, let the dog out and make Mama some coffee. Ok, I’m reaching here. A little.
But all the knowledge in the world is not making this chunk of time any easier. And so, I get myself a Dark Chocolate Mocha Latte from Dunkin Donuts (otherwise known as a big ol’ cup of super fuel that tastes nothing like coffee {which is probably why I like it}) and inadvertently over-caffeinate myself because in my fog, I usually forget to eat breakfast. I only realize it a few hours later when my buzz turns into WARNING, WARNING, ALL SYSTEMS CRASHING!!!!, which is usually right when both kids are ready for a nap and irritable.
I wish for Owen a lifetime of love, happiness, adventure and prosperity. I also wish for him a child who doesn’t sleep well because PAYBACK IS A BITCH, kiddo.
Did this make any sense? I wrote it with my eyes closed.
When I lost my job in public relations it felt awful. I left a job and people I loved in the not-for-profit world for one in consumer electronics because I thought it would advance me in my career. It was close to home and paid much more than I was making, and so, after much back and forth, I took it.
The problem was, I wasn’t very good at the new job. The passion I held for the museum I left could not be replicated in the consumer world. I felt timid and confused and spent a better part of a year hoping to not be put on the spot, afraid it would reveal the truth.
Despite all that, getting fired was terrible. Although a part of me felt relief that I could just go, I still felt awful about my performance. It wasn’t the right job for me, but it was still my job. I should have worked harder. Done better.
My current gig is one I am passionate about. Being a mother brings me both joy and a sense of accomplishment. I’m good at this job, most of the time.
Lately, though, I feel like I’m slipping into the failing zone, and while no one can hand me a pink slip, I’m still aware I need to do better.
Two and a half is a challenging age. Owen argues with me, is defiant and fresh. He refuses to nap, pushes boundaries and tells me “no” all day long. At 6 months, Ryan is a happy little thing, until he’s not. Lately I spend my days more frustrated than happy. I feel burdened and unappreciated by my two small people. I am grumpy and annoyed easily and on top of that, I yell.
I could hear myself yelling more than I should, but when Owen called me out on it, I knew it had to stop. After getting out of bed AGAIN to go potty (he knows he can get out of bed for that), I snapped that it was ENOUGH.
“Why are you yelling at me, Mommy?” He asked.
“I’m not, bud,” I said, backtracking.
“Well, you were…”
Ouch.
I’m afraid that I’m so caught up in the endless minutiae of the every day, that I am missing the good stuff. I don’t want to miss a funny quote or a big cheesy grin because I’m mad that I tripped over a stray toy for the 10th time. I don’t want my kids to remember me as a grumpy mommy who yelled over nothing. I want my words and tone to mean something.
I don’t like the mother I’ve been lately, but unlike my previous job, I’m going to do something about it. I need to take a deep breath, calm my blood pressure and start a new. One day my house will stay clean and no one will be fighting me over a nap, but that also means my babies will have left the nest. I need to focus more on the now and appreciate this time while they are still little.
And so, I have an opportunity to change the way things are. This time I can, I WILL, do better.
At least you can have an occasional drink at this job.
(He’s laughing at me. I lose.)
Dear Ryan,
Today you are six months old. Hard to believe it, little boy. Six months is a fun age because you do stuff now. You sit like a champ, though you still topple over. But when you do topple, you roll onto your belly and play. You “talk” and mimic and grab onto our faces, holding them close while flashing us your gummy smile.
You are such a happy baby, save for the past few weeks where you were such a grump. I blamed it on teething (because I always blame this stuff on teething), but you woke up from your afternoon nap today all smiles and giggles and started to blow raspberries — something I haven’t seen you do yet. Was that the skill you were working so hard to master that was making you so angry? Raspberries? Well, you’ve mastered it now so let’s keep Happy Ryan around.
I could spend my whole day staring into those big brown eyes of yours. Your eyelashes are unreal, kid.
Right before I went to sleep on New Years Eve, I checked on you and found you sleeping on your stomach. After that, it was Roll City. You like to rock yourself back and forth to move around the living room and the changing table has become a playground. As soon as I get you on there you start hurling yourself over, doing anything in your power to flip. You find this hilarious and laugh right at me as I try in vain to get your diaper on while you audition for the Olympic gymnastics team. You are trying SO HARD to move. You can almost get yourself up on your knees and I can see how much it pains you not to be able to just take off after your brother. I would not be surprised if you crawled and/or walked early.
You are my cheeky one, Little. With your sparkly eyes, big smile and infectious laugh I know you’re going to sucker me out of getting into trouble. You’ve got that “who me?” look down pat already.
You are already a blankie/lovie kid. I don’t let you sleep with one yet for fear of you smothering yourself, but during waking hours the easiest way to calm you is to pass you a receiving blanket or a burp cloth and you are good to go. You always have one in the car to snuggle and suck on.
You’ve tried rice cereal a handful of times, but unlike your brother who literally “mmmm’d” his way though his first tasting, you could take it or leave it. Granted, it’s boring old rice cereal, so we will introduce you to some veggies soon, but it may be a few more weeks before you’re truly interested. Your cup, however, brings you much delight, and while you’re not really drinking out of it, you’ve gotten pretty good and putting it in your mouth. You’re also really good at banging it on the table while shrieking with delight.
Your four-month sleep regression was nothing more than you fussing a little more at bedtime and waking around 1 rather than 4 or 5. Thank you for that, kiddo. I really do appreciate it. You continue to be such a great sleeper — most nights waking just once and some nights not at all — and I love that I can put you down for naps and bed wide awake and you will put yourself to sleep.
Owen remains your very best friend and the two of you are so funny together. You laugh together and you always want to be touching him. You watch him wherever he goes and you love tagging along to his story hour and toddler dance class. You will mimic his voice and kiss his face and in turn, he showers you will love. I couldn’t have asked for a better pair.
Sure, you have days where I’m ready to put you out with the bath water…
(Sure am!)
…but I think we’ll still keep you.
I love you through and through, Little.
Love,
Mama
Dear Owen,
There’s been a couple of stages during your life that I declare your current age to be my favorite. This is one of them. You can still be willful and stubborn and frustrating as you continue to grow and assert your independence, but something changed in just these last few weeks. It’s hard to articulate, but you are such a KID now. I know, I know. Every letter I write I tell you how you’ve grown so much, but really, trust me. This time you have. You’re not just two, you’re two and a HALF. Halves make all the difference.
You crack jokes, including your first toilet humor. You changed a word in a song from “super” to “pooper”, then collapsed in a fit of giggles. I of course couldn’t NOT laugh at your nonsense, so you repeated it over and over until it was no longer amusing and I had a pretty clear view of what life with a 10-year old boy will be like. I’ve started writing down all of your best quotes so I never forget them. Like just the other day, when I mentioned I wanted go to Starbucks and you told me you didn’t want to go, you wanted to play, and I should “go in the kitchen and make your own coffee, Mommy.” Well. Ok, then.
You want to do everything yourself, even if it takes twice (or three times) as long. You are essentially daytime potty trained, but actually wake up most mornings dry as well. When you go, you want privacy, telling us to “go in the living room” until you are done. Which is fine by me, because you can already stink up the bathroom like a grown man. Yes, my love. I put that on the internet. Consider it advanced payback for the first time you stay out past curfew.
Currently your favorite things are your toy animals, pretend food (you go shopping and cook “just like Mommy”), any of the wooden blocks/Kinex variety, and of course, vehicles of every kind. You also enjoy our weekly trips to kid/mom dance class and story hour.
Ryan is your best friend in the whole world and watching the two of you together brings me so much joy. You love to play with him and make him laugh, and I have to tell you multiple times a day that while it’s incredibly sweet, he does not need to be kissed and hugged quite that much. You’re going to squeeze the stuffing out of him.
You still think Daddy is the coolest guy on the planet (I get it. I do too!) and on his days at home, it is All Daddy Everything. On those nights only Daddy will do for bedtime.
You still nap, though it takes a while and some gentle reminding that it’s time to settle down and go to sleep. You have always been a grumpy waker from your naps, though, but I have to be honest and tell you there’s a part of me that doesn’t mind. After your nap you usually wake calling for me. It is then you call me Mama, not Mommy, and want nothing more than to bury yourself under my chin and be held. You are always on the go now, slowing so infrequently, that I cherish the moments when all you want is to slow down with me.
Tomorrow we are touring the preschool you will attend in the fall. It’s just a couple hours a few days a week, but it will be a huge change. For all of us. I know it’s still months away, but it doesn’t feel very far at all. You, my ever-growing boy. How did you get so big?
I guess you’re not This Little Toddler anymore. What do we call you now? This Little Kid? Yeah, I think that sounds about right.
I love you through and through, Mister Mister.
Love,
Mommy
There’s never a good time to step in urine, but stepping in urine before 7 a.m. really takes the cake.
We’re knee deep in potty training Owen and while he’s doing excellent — really! — boys have that whole extra issue of having to tuck it in and because of that, occasionally I find myself dodging puddles. We’ve bought stock in Clorox Wipes.
I guess I can’t really complain too much. He announced one day while in the tub that he had to go potty, and after that things just took off. I still have to tell him it’s time to take a “potty break”, as he only sometimes tell us he has to go, but if we keep up on him he spends almost every day entirely dry and many nights too. He’s also been learning the concept of “privacy”, and now wants us to leave the bathroom and shut the door while he goes. Cracks me up, this kid.
ANYWAY, I digress. My point was that at 6:39 a.m. I opened the bathroom door to find that not everything had made it in the bowl and I guess those things can get some range, because the puddle I stepped in was closer to the door than the potty. At the same time, Ryan was complaining from his crib where I put him after he woke to eat at 5:30 and wouldn’t go back to sleep, and Kodiak was all up my butt wanting breakfast.
I finally got everyone situated, but before I could get a drop of caffeine in my system, Ryan was ready to go back to sleep (uh, yeah. Because you were up at 5:30, kiddo.), Owen wanted breakfast and Sesame Street and now the kitchen floor needed wiping from Kodiak shaking his face after drinking. Sometimes I feel like I’ve had an entire day before the day ever starts.
- I’ll admit it. I totally use Owen as a “babysitter”. For example, Ryan’s needs are all met and he is happily playing on his play mat while I write this. Until he’s not happy, for whatever reason, and starts to fuss. “Hey, Owen. Go make your brother laugh,” I’ll say. And he does. And I get five more minutes of me time. We’ll have to have another kid just to keep the cycle going.
- Have you started holiday shopping? I…haven’t. I kind of know what I’m getting most people, but aside from one purchase already made for Owen, I’ve done nothing. I always say I’m going to shop year-round to avoid last minute stress and I NEVER DO. Never. Of course.
- Speaking of holidays, don’t forget you have until Friday to enter to win $50 off your Tiny Prints order. Do it! Cards are expensive! Free stuff!
- Random (appropriate for this post, no?) but do you have a headboard for your bed? Do you love it? I really, really want one, but they’re so expensive and I just can’t commit. I want one that is padded but won’t collect dust and hair. I’m not sure I love leather. I’m pretty much screwed, right? Help?
Something like this, maybe. I really like the clean, modern look of it. I do not like the price tag. Damn you, West Elm and you’re pretty, expensive things.
- In the time it took to write this post, we had another successful potty endeavor. One and two, if you cared to know. (You probably didn’t.) I’m happy to report everything made it into the bowl and no mothers were forced to step in anything gross. The end.
Dear Owen,
Happy 27 months, kiddo. A lot has changed in your world since my last letter, hasn’t it? Not only are you solidly a two-year old, but you are also officially a big brother, and a great one at that. You really do love Ryan and it makes my heart all melty every morning when you greet him with love and kisses and “brothers!” in a sing-songy voice. You always want to be near him…to the point that I often have to tell you to get out of his face. But really, it’s all good.
The addition of a sibling has brought on some jealousy, though. I know this because you’ve taken to pretend crying in this awful whiny voice whenever the baby starts fussing. I understand your train of thought, I do. When the baby cries he gets attention. But, oh, KID. Please stop that. It’s like nails on a chalkboard. We’ve been talking about how Ryan doesn’t have words so that’s why he cries, but Owen has SO MANY words and can use them to tell us what he needs.
You do have them, you know. You talk so much that sometimes after I put you to bed I realize the only time you stopped talking was when you were sleeping. You carry on entire conversations and are so very curious. You want to know what everything is, the name of every person we encounter, where we are going, what we are doing and who is going to come visit you. You are curious and thoughtful and interested in everything.
Two is a challenging age. You are willful and demanding and self-centered. Some days you leave me ragged after a constant battle of back-and-forth. On the flip side, you are funny and sparkly and cuddly and loving. You are affectionate and smart and some days you leave me dazzled by what you come up with. Your accomplishments leave me beaming with pride and I think your cheeks are still one of the most delicious things to snack on.
You are still a very cautious kid, although watching you slowly come out of your shell has been really cool for us. It took nearly the whole summer for you to walk on the beach without fussing or to actually go in the ocean, but once you did it, you were hooked. I love watching you experience these things for the first time. Seeing life through your eyes makes me appreciate it a little more.
You love to be outside, riding your bike, playing with toy cars, shooting hoops, running with the neighborhood kids, collecting sticks and acorns and coloring with chalk. At the end of the day you are a mess. A happy mess, but a mess none the less.
You are growing so quickly that some days I worry I’m going to blink and you will be leaving for college. I want to bottle these moments with you — however challenging some of them may be — and remember them always. (Sigh, maybe not ALL of them. Even as I’m writing this you had a mini-tantrum over crayons, of all things.)
October 2011/September 2012. From cautiously toddling along, to always on the move.
Each time I write one of these letters it dawns on me how quickly you change in such a short period of time. How each time I sit down to reflect on the previous three months, a little more of your babyhood has faded away and a bit more of who you are becoming has emerged. It’s a wonderfully bittersweet journey.
I love you, through and through, you crazy kid.
Love,
Mommy
