Three

Dear Lindan,

You are three now, and though that is hard to believe, you truly act the part. My heart breaks with pride and Mama-love as I watch you become your own person.

I knew I was in for it the day when I asked you to wear a shirt (other than a football jersey) and told you, “Oh, but it is one of my favorites,” and your response was, “But it is not MY favorite.” And so I am learning to let go, a little at a time, as I watch you become a big boy with your own tastes and preferences. 

You have also entered the age of tantrums to let us know just how badly you want what you want. This has been our first real glimpse of your Taurus, bull-like stubbornness. This has also shown us your determination. In just about anything you try, you stick with it. You try and try again. You persevere. You rode a pedal bike when you were two-and-a-half. You will stand and shoot ball after ball, not coming anywhere even close to the net. You will try and try again to get the tennis ball over the net. And this I hope you hold on to. The tenacity to get up and try again each time you fall down, because more and more I realize that I can’t keep you from falling down.

You can also be very uncomfortable with transitions and nervous about new experiences and people. You take time to warm up. In swim lessons, I have been that mom in the pool as the others sit on the bleachers and watch. You don’t love drop off at school and if we go anywhere after school, I take pains to be sure we go straight there rather than add another transition. You need extra hugs and kisses when I leave for work in the morning, clinging to Mommy as long as you can.

Now that you are three you are also so much more aware of the world around you. We can walk through a store and now you see everything we pass. And as we drive in the car, you notice so much more of the world around you. The world is bigger than just you and Dad and me and our little family.

And you are always full of surprises. While we wait on the edge for our next battle to fight, you will calmly go along with our wishes. When we expect anger, you will shower us with a thousand kisses all over our bodies. When we expect a bear after nap time, you will ask to go back to bed and lay on my tummy. Head pressed against my chest, heavy body on my torso, legs that reach down to my knees. And in these moments, I savor every inch of you. I smell your sweet, baby shampoo, fresh air, sweat, and earthy-smelling hair, inhaling these moments that I hope to cherish as you grow.

It is nice to know that we are still connected, when we stand cheek-to-cheek to watch the thunderstorm and admire the lightning. You, trembling and scared, as we joke that the thunder is the sound of Lightning McQueen revving his engine up in the sky. You, wanting to sleep in our room to be close by, convinced that there will be a thunderstorm in your room each night. You ask for three books each night at bed, although only sometimes want a silly song when I tuck you in. (You prefer made-up stories about you and a race car and a brother named Ason. All of them end with a trophy.) And then Easton will sleep with you, both of you curled up on the floor of your bedroom.

I watch you become you and know that you are still my perfection. You still have that perfect little giggle and full-bellied laugh. You still ask me to hold you and you tell me that you love me when you feel nervous. You still delight in all the small joys around us and make me see the world through new eyes.  

I will still paint your fingernails and fill you will glee, all the while thinking of a day when that joy might be taunted out of you by someone older or more mature. I will let you wear my perfume and pearls and your unmatched socks and pajamas and dirt bikes gloves to school. I will let you have these small freedoms and hope that you always have the confidence to be true to yourself and do what makes you happy. 

And you, Lindan, are what makes me happy. Happier than I ever knew a Mama-me would be.

All my heart,
3 bushels and 3 pecks,
Mommy

Photos by Kathleen McCullough

http://www.flickr.com/photos/kookooface/

http://www.mskathleen.blogspot.com

   

It's the little things he says...

Language development meets personality in a fascinating way.
It's so fun to listen to Lindan as he reasons out the world.
And everyday, he says a hundred little things that make me smile.

His vocabulary includes:
Berserk n. Dessert (As in Hippos Go Berserk but "I want to eat ice cream for berserk.")
Race it up v. Erase (Race it up, Mommy.)
A bless you n. A sneeze ("I did a bless you all over the magazine, Mommy.")
My personal favorite:
Giant n. Vagina ("You are a girl so you have a giant.")

He also spends much of his time singing Let it Go, twirling, arms outstretched, or Shake It Off (mmm mmm).

He's sweet and tender when he proclaims "I love you" over and over, especially when he is nervous or unsure. Is there anything sweeter than this face looking up at me to repeat, "Mommy, I love you." again and again. Or perhaps when he says, "Let me do your back" as he soaps my back in the shower.

When Todd and I recently moved a couch he stood on the sidelines watching, saying, "Good teamwork, guys."

Then, there was the moment of sunscreen application that required the "Because why, Mommy?" and he answered himself, "So I can feel pretty?"

And as he rode circles around us on his bike, he cried out, "Do you want to get the bells, guys?"
As in, the cowbells. (I guess he has seen a few triathlons.)
"Cheer for me, Mommy!"
And so he rode circles around us as Oma rang cowbells and I hollered, "Go, Lindan!"
And I thought to myself, if only every child had this many fans.
We must be doing something right.

This Boy

This is the boy who pinches the pages of his books and offer up the delights of what he has captured. "It's candy, Mommy."

This is the boy who rides his bike in big loops around our small living room, careening past the corners of all of our tables, parents on edge.

This is the boy who learned to ride a two-wheeler without training wheels at age two and half.

This is the boy who loves trucks and bikes and cars and airplanes and trains and motorcycles and anything that goes. He giggles when you tell him stories about dirt bikes and how he will ride them someday.

This is the boy who calls high heels "Spiderman shoes" because Mommy doesn't wear them but the ladies in the costume catalog do.

This is the boy who can balance in said high heels with more grace that Mommy, too.

This is the boy who is terrified of people in costumes. He has already declared his distrust of Santa Claus.

This is the boy who loves to pretend to be our baby. To be held. And rocked. And cradled. And sung to. "Hush little baby don't say a word, Mama's going to buy you a..." "Dinosaur."

This is the boy who loves cats. Not dogs. Cats.

This is the boy who breaks into dance moves at the drop of a hat. And he has some moves, man.

This is the boy who wears and apron to help me cook and calls it his skirt.

This is the boy who hates the feel of dog hair on his hands. Who will call you out on a mess. Who makes me clean my house.

This is the boy who has the girls lining up to marry him.

This is the boy who can make rocket sounds all nap time long without falling asleep.

This is the boy who wants song after song at bedtime, sung about dirt bikes and race cars and kittens.

This is the boy who will take your quarter so he can pretend to play ski ball.

This is a boy who loves to sing and make up his own songs. Usually with only one loud, out-of-tune word.

This is the boy who will lovingly tend to his baby dolls needs, kissing her when she cries, and wrapping her up to lay her down to sleep.

This is the boy who has captured my heart.

Nothing Terrible... Yet

I face each stage of mamahood with a little nervous energy about how I will handle what's to come.
And so I entered the Terrible 2's.
And so far...
Nothing terrible.
There is only more of a unique, individual little person to love
as he grows and changes.

There is the way that he eats his cereal dry and drinks his milk on the side.
There is the way that he hollers "game" every time he has tried a new activity that delights him.
There is the way that he is enamored with his new flip flops that tickle between his toes.

When he wants to do it, he simply states "self" or "Lindan by self"
and now sometimes has learned to say "hurt" if he is worried to really do it all on his own.

He strings together 4-word sentences to tell us all about what he observes in the world around him
and each commentary is a small reminder to stop and notice the world around you.
Daddy no go work.
Papa walking street, too.
Thank you, Mommy, donut.
Oma sit next you. 

He will try new foods but often spit them out.
He will say "no nap" but easily succumb to a story and song
after a chase around the house and a tickle.
He will go potty wherever he chooses. Well, within limits...

He counts 1, 3, 7...
He tries to hit any wild pitch that comes his way.
He sings and he dances and he spins and he rolls.
He's working on a somersault, and his letters, and putting, and his tennis serve.

He drums on the table.
He reads to himself.
He swings on his belly.
And he climbs.
Fearlessly, he climbs.

There is a lot to be learned from a boy who is two...
And so far, none of it is terrible.

two

Dear Lindan,
I can hardly believe that you are two already- and on Mother's Day to boot!
You have made me one lucky, and very happy, mommy.
Your growth and change over the last year is indescribable.
I feel so blessed to be your mom.
I know, I know... I am sure all moms say this about their children, but you are one special little boy.

From the way that you wake up with a smile around your pacifier to tell me about what you've squirreled away in your crib overnight and played with quietly for a half hour or so until I get you up.
To the way we get to read books together at bedtime- with your exclamations of pure delight over every last kitty or truck or bike or ball.
From the bottom of your cute little feet with the gnarly toenails that tickle so much they are hard to clip.
To your blonde ringlets that I can't bear to see on the floor of the hair salon again- at least not yet.
From the time when we eat our breakfast together each morning. You with your cereal and banana, milk on the side. Me with me avocado and hard boiled egg that when I bite it, you call the moon.
To the dinners we have as a family when you scorn the broccoli (though you love to say the word) and eat all the meat you can, preferably dipped in ketchup.
From your preference to be outside, all day and night, weather conditions disregarded. (Unless it is windy, then you cower.)
To the quiet times playing with puzzles and dolls. Or the loud times inside when you ride your bike around the table and down the hall, announcing your delight in doing so. And always wearing your helmet, on the bike or no.

From our car ride to "school" while you play and read books in the back seat. Proclaiming "done" when you expect me to take something from you and "glasses bright" when you need your cool shades.
To the way that you'll climb up on Papa's lap for shelter as soon as it seems that mom and dad are going to take you home to bed.
From your growing vocabulary that includes: cute, silly, tiny, fast, and guacamole.
To the way that you've learned to love to snuggle, laying under a blanket, or head on my shoulder, giving warm, wet kisses.
From the way that everything has gone from being yellow, to all the colors of the rainbow. Or count 1, 2, 9, 8...
To the way that you now say "ball" and I feel a pang of longing to hear you say "doh" the way you once did... when you were a baby.
And now you call yourself "boy".
A boy that I love with all of my mama heart and more.

Happy birthday, Lindan.

A Day in the Life: 20 months

The last couple of snow days home have given me a taste of just how fast this little boy is growing and changing. Which is a reminder that I need to savor each moment and record a few, too. It's too easy to forget.

I might forget the ways that he stands up in the corner of his crib and waits quietly for us to come get him once we notice him on the video monitor.
Or the way he greets you with a bright "hi" and then says "nap" before he will cuddle his warm body, heavy with sleep, against you.

I might forget the way he will take a break from nursing to blow me a kiss, or beat box, depending on the day.
Or the way he insists on walking around in his sleep sack until he is ready to "zip" to see his pj's underneath.

I might forget the way that he fusses when you try to change his diaper or get him dressed.
Or the way he settles right in to watch Yo Gabba Gabba or Elmo while we get him ready to start his day.

I might forget these days when he needs his bib because he insists on feeding himself yogurt, and hummus, and cereal with bananas.
Or the way he insists on a smoothie for the car ride to daycare and then reads books in the back seat while I drive.

I might forget that there are days when he clings to me, and days he just runs away after blowing me a kiss.
Or the way he tells me about his day with just a few words.

I might forget that he has crying fits each day that we get home and it's too cold to play outside.
Or the way he'll finally settle for the prospect of coloring or playing trains.

I might forget the way he says "yew-ow" or "boookh" or or "iiissshhh" or "L" once he can say them the right way.
Or the way he asks for daddy whenever its just us.

I might forget the silly, crazy fits of laughter when I smother him with kisses.
Or the way he'll plunk right down in my lap.
Or lead me by the hand to show me what he wants.
Or help me in the kitchen by throwing peas in the pot or sprinkle salt in a bowl.

I might forget the way that he throws anything in his hand.
Or this bruise he gave me because of it.
I might forget today's first time-out when he kicked me for telling him 'no'.
Or the way he clung to me after it, with tears in his eyes.

I might forget how much he loves blowing bubbles in the bath.
Or running in circles around furniture.

I might forget these first timid steps on his tricycle.
Or the way he pulls his choice of snacks from the cupboards, along with half of the pots and pans.

I might forget the way he says "cheese" when he sees my camera come out and then "baby" so he can see himself on the display.
Or the way he wants to watch the video of himself on repeat as many times as we will let him.

I might forget the way he runs in a game of chase when he knows I'm trying to capture him for bed.
Or the way he'll sometimes cry his protest when he was having too much fun to go to sleep.
Or the way he'll fall right to sleep once you lay him down silently.

And then we get to do it all over again.
But it's just a bit different each time.
And each day he's just a bit more independent.
And needs me just a little less.
But I love him just the same.
Or maybe a little more.

Resolution

This year, my goal is to learn to use my camera.

Really use it.

I got a new fixed 50 mm lens for Christmas and I want to play around with it. I want to better record our lives, and frankly, I just love to take pictures.
As a part of this goal, I have joined a group on Facebook that challenges us to take a Picture A Day, on a different theme each month.
I'm less than a week in, loving it, and hoping I don't lose steam.

It's all very experimental (see part one of my goal: learn to use my camera) and quite fun.
This month's theme is negative space. You'll notice I have a couple of favorite subjects. :)

It's also fun to see the small moments in our lives that tell our story.
That we are still in our pj's at noon on the weekends.
The stack of clean clothes waiting to be put away in the background.

A naked baby playing.
The mirror that needs to be cleaned.
The box of toys that's been dumped out, just for fun.

And a lot of smiles.
It's fun to look back on those, too.

Lindan's Words: 19 Months

Most people might not care, but when I look back, I want a quick snapshot now and again of what life is like with Lindan. I wish I did this kind of thing more often. Just a brief note on his going-ons.
Today I will note his vocablary to date. I am sure this is an incomplete list, but it's what I can think of, off the top of my head.

a- apple, Addy, auntie (ah-ee)
b- banana (nana), ball (doh), baby, bye, baa (any farm animal), boot, buttons, buckle, bottle, blow, book, bat, bath
c-
d- Dada, Daddy (Da-ee), down
e- eyes, eat
f- feet
g- go
h- hi, hummus, hike (as in football), hat, head, honk (geese)
i-
j-
k- knees
l- Lindan (in-in)
m- monkey (mon-ee), Mama, Mommy (ma-ee), miss (meesh), Maggie (Ma-ee), mitt, mwah!
n- NO, nigh nigh,
o- Oma, ow, out
p- Papa, Patty (Pa-ee), play
q- quack quack
r- Riah
s- snack (nack), spoon
t-
u- uh-oh, up
v- vrrrmmmm (any vehicle)
w- Willy, wee!, watch, WANT, wow, woah, walk, wee-wee, wawa
x-
y- yeah, yah
z-

signs- more, all done, milk, please, dog, train, bike, cereal, cracker, tree, thank you, eat, outside

Summer Learnin'

Summer happened so fast.
With so many lessons along the way.

Lindan learned to climb up and down stairs on his knees and his feet.
And how to recover when he fell.

He learned that it's a lot of fun to play in the dirt
but that the dirt doesn't taste so good when you put a fistful in your mouth.

Sand is equally intriguing
and no problem all over his face
or in his mouth.

Water is fun for splashing
and diving in, head-on
and blowing bubbles.

Chairs are for relaxing
and watching The Wiggles.

Dancing is best when Daddy holds him
but also fun to clap and stomp
and spin and bounce.

Cousins are great for playing that he's the live baby doll
or for letting him play Minecraft on their iPod.

Naps are best in his own bed.

Throwing things is fun.
Anything at all is good for throwing.

Easton is the best eater.

Mmmm means delicious,
ba-ba means "bye bye" or baby,
mm-ee means monkey,
da means down,
rrrrmmmm is the noise for cars
but when accompanied by a hand twist also goes for motorcycles.

Toilet paper is best for unravelling.

Bathing is unnecessary when you swim or play in a water table.

Mama's milk is always inside her shirt.
Her cleavage is also a good place to stash toys until you're ready to play with them later.

Oma comes over when Mama and Dada leave.
Papa comes anytime.

Watermelon and cheese and peaches and yogurt are delicious.

Stroller walks can be fun.
Climbing anything is fun.
Most of the cupboards are fun.
Balloons are fun.
Summer is fun.

A Day in the Life, 14 months

Looking back, I want to remember what it's like to live with an almost 14-month-old boy. Our day to day can seem mundane, but I am sure that with time I will forget the precious little moments that make up our lives.

You are in bed now about 6:00 p.m. and I won't see you again until about 7 in the morning. I will flick on your video monitor once or twice in the night when I get up to use the bathroom. I will admire your small form sprawled out across the crib, and smile before I fall back asleep.

In the morning you wake up with a smile, and once I pick you up you are immediately pointing to objects in your room, saying "dat" (that) or "wat" (want) and I will slip you out of your sleep sack and into a clean diaper before plunking you into your high chair for breakfast. Your current favorites are watermelon, yogurt, blackberries, nectarines, or some of mommy's smoothie.

After breakfast we'll wipe you down with a fuss before you head off to find your toys. You currently love balls (and a dog toy stick that cracks us up). You roll and chase and throw and experiment with gravity from every angle.

You have a few signs that you use intermittently. You can sign milk, more, all done, or eat. You also have a small vocabulary of spoken words that you use when you feel like it. You have said mama, dada, oma, papa, dog, baa (sheep), hat, hot, book, pees (please), wawa (water), and you always call a ball (at any distance) a "doh".

You also like to pull things off of the shelves and are very good at rearranging our dvd's, shoes, and books. Sometimes we read those books, and Jamberry and Where is Baby's Belly Button are still your favorites. You have many cupboards you can open and you like to pull out the pots and pans with a clatter. You also like to dump out the letters from your name stool, shake your maracas, or press any kind of button you can.

After a week of illness, you have bounced back (to our relief) into your old self of laughing, smiling, and saying 'hi' and waving to anyone you meet. You get a little disappointed when the strangers ignore you.

Now you are starting to walk for real. Well, at least more often. You took your first steps on May 30 but it wasn't until now that you have started to move efficiently on two feet. Crawling is still way faster, but you walk maybe 30% of the time.

You will go back down for your single nap of the day (that's a recent transition) around 11:00 and sleep at least 3 hours, sometimes 4. I putter around the house and try to accomplish my chores and find a few minutes for myself, too.

Once you are up, you are always very hungry and we repeat the breakfast routine. We know you are done when you start chucking your food onto the ground. That's Easton's favorite part and he spends all the time he can under your high chair.

Around now Daddy gets home from work. He wrestles with you on the rug or takes you outside to play on your swing set while I get dinner ready. Your current favorite outdoor activity is repeatedly climbing the stairs. You will also point to swings or slide and say "eee" (wee) when you want to ride.

You eat with us at dinnertime and then self-entertain on the floor while we finish and clean up. Daddy usually does your jammies and we try to brush your teeth. This is the best time of day for dance parties, too. We'll jam around the living room to the Grateful Dead, twirling and dipping and laughing all the way. You tend to get a bit slap happy about this time of day and its always fun to giggle and tickle before bed.

I still nurse you before I lay your down. I always kiss your forehead and whisper "How much do I love you? A bushel and a peck. For how long? Forever and a day." before I settle you in your crib. You always go right to sleep.

Then, I look forward to doing it all again in a new way on a new day. Just trying to be present and savor each of these small moments.