The Cool Kid

This is one cool kid I have. Really, I love him so much and can't get over how amazing it is to be completely and utterly responsible for a little person. This kid knows how to run errands like nobody's business. He is so patient with me and puts up with all of my little quirks. He is the best shopping companion and girl could ask for. When I ask if he likes something he always says yes, when I have to put a toy back that he was looking at he is very willing to let it go, and if he has to wait a little while for lunch he is okay with that as long as he gets to order something with cheese. Watching him and talking with him and napping with him every day is a pleasure--I would never trade it.

So, nearly two year old cool kid, thanks for just being mine. We have a few fun, very busy days ahead and I know you will take them like a champ. I can't wait to see what T-W-O will bring to the table. You are awesome!

Just a Little Letters

Found some awesome letter magnets at the thrift store the other day and was oh so happy to get home and stick them up on the fridge. Of course, as with most treasures from the thrift store, there were a few letters missing, namely the letters needed to write my sons name. Mom fail!!! I was thoroughly disappointed and have been back to the thrift stores on a number of occasions looking for more to add to our collection, but alas, no luck.

Fortunately, the missing letters don't seem to bother _ L _ KE even one little bit. He mixes and matches the letters to his heart's content. He quickly learned purple T and blue R with ease. He has even made up the best game of putting all the letters on the floor and then scooping them up with the dust pan. Ever since the purchase of these letters I have been finding Ps and Qs all over the house, cleaning them up, and returning them to the fridge every night. 

Honestly I am amazed at how quickly my Littleman is starting to pick things up these days. His vocabulary is growing exponentially and I have to be super careful about what I let slip from my lips. He is not only mimicking sound, but also tone. If I grumble and growl, so does he. If I clap and cheer shrilly, so does he. It is funny, and quite charming. I especially love when Tio tries to get him to say certain things in a certain way. A particular favorite seems to be, "No, no doggie!" Blake says this when our dog, or any dog for that matter, starts barking. He shakes his finger and scowls menacingly while issuing this command. Tio thinks it is awesome, and tries to get Blake to say it over and over, lower and lower. 

What am I to do with so much growing up happening in this house? I dare say, a two year old will soon be upon us and I am not quite sure if I am ready for it. 

      

We are Really Good at Sharing

...perhaps a little too good.

This kid loves to share his food with this stuffed doggie. It's name is Doggie. He is very precious to Littleman. He has temporarily taking the place of Peter Rabbit while he is on vacation at G.G.'s house, and now Doggie goes everywhere with us. He mostly stays in the crib with K.B. at night, you know, to keep him safe and watched over. However, now things are little more intimate. 

This here Doggie comes out of the crib with K.B. every morning. He sits at the kitchen table for breakfast, usually eating spoons full of milk and Cocoa Puffs. Then he comes downstairs and waits for lunch. At lunchtime he gets to eat double dipped fries covered in ranch. Then we cuddle, all three of us smelling like sour milk and ranch, for a long nap. After naps K.B. usually runs wild until dinner, and finally has forgotten all about Doggie. This is when I give dear, sweet Doggie a little wipe down so the milk and ranch can't get too terrible. Then Doggie naps in the crib until it is time for bed. 

Another day, another date with Doggie. Honestly though, I am loving it. K.B. is not particular as long it is a a stuffed animal, any stuffed animal, acting as partner in crime. He is so affectionate towards his pets and I am hoping, fingers crossed, this means there will at least be something to take his mind and attention off of the binky once in a while. This is my life right now; Doggie, "nie nie," and spilled milk and guess what, I'll take it. Though, I can't help but want Peter Rabbit back. He at least would mind his manners at the table. 

Farm People

Both Superman and I have a little farmer in our blood, and so apparently, does our boy. 

My grandparents used to have a farm in Canada we would often visit in the summer. They raised, wait for it, OSTRICHES. I know! Crazy. Anyway, we would go up there and ride around on the four wheeler, chase the herding dog, swat at flies, and take a trot around the property. I would get to go check on the incubator with my Grandpa, keep my elbows off the table for my Grandma, and fall asleep in a pile of cousins. It was the life and I loved those summers we were able to visit. I remember specifically sliding my feet into my Grandpa's rubber boots that were always in the mudroom. He would crack his bullwhip and let us ride in the back of his truck. There were smells and sounds of the farm I will never quite come to love, but the rest of it was pretty amazing. 

My husband actually worked on a farm when he was really little. He did chores and all that, so his idea of farm life is a bit disenchanted when compared to mine, but still, he seems to like getting away to the rustic and rural just as much as I do. There is just something so soothing about that simple life when all you need is fields of grass and sunshine to entertain you all day long. 

Which is why I am so, so happy to have a little farm taking up over half of our street block. I get the smells and sounds once in a while--which act as memory jerkers a lot of the time. Yet, I don't have to do any of the work. Yipee! The little farm keeps us grounded and the horses especially are a draw for my Littleman. He loves them. "Wa's dat?" he asks, pointing with his flyaway index finger. I say, "horse," and make the best whinny I can muster. Usually this goes round and round, but the other day he actually said it back to me. What a kid! He knows "moo" to a T, but horse, that is a new one and one more farm animal we can check off our list. 

Anyways, when we walk by this sweet little farm one of the horses, a particularly friendly white one, comes right up to the fence. I rub the velvety nose while Blake takes his time to warm up to the large beast. Finally he will reach out his hand and give the horse a few friendly pats on the mat of hair that hangs between it's eyes. Then I set him down and he scampers along the fence line pointing and galloping. Yup, farm boy at heart, right here. Get him a hat and some boots and we will be set.

These heart melting moments make me wish my Grandparents still had their farm in Canada. It makes me wish I could take my Littleman up there and show him all of the places I would play. I want to put him on a horse with his Grandpa or let him run like a wild Indian in the front yard. I long to let him see an ostrich up close and laugh when it poofs up and does it's funny mating dance.

We will never get back there, and that is ok. The next best thing is a farm in Idaho we can visit. It is owned by our brother in law. It is a beautiful home on beautiful property. Blake will be obsessed with the cows and tractors when we make it up there. I just know it.

Ever Seen a Party Animal?

This is just a quick shot from a Circus Party hosted by the Shops at the Riverwoods in our area. That day we had already played in the pool, pushed cars around a track, and hit up some shopping. This kid was beat dead tired. He sat in his stroller all quiet and dozey. I seriously thought we were in for another nap at 6pm fiasco. All that to say, this little party animal was plum tuckered out by the time we got to this little circus. We wanted to fully enjoy it, really had every intention of doing so, but is just wasn't going to happen.

Despite his lethargic state though, this kid still really liked the big cats. I mean, who wouldn't? He kept pointing and saying, "meow." There were also a few animals/mascots walking around the event. One particularly scary gorilla didn't garner any love from this boy, but Cosmo of BYU was a bit more appealing. We had fun listening to the music and wandering aimlessly through the shops for about 30 mins before we decided it was time to just call it a night. It was simply a nice end to a very long day. 

The Stories of a Little Pirate King

We spent the weekend at GG and Bapa's house because our daddy was working a lot. For this Littleman that means a little swimming, a lot of playing Hotwheels, and plenty of all around fun and adventure. We love visiting family and spending as much time outside as we possibly can. This little pirate was particularly happy to run around the backyard with nothing but his shorts and a bandanna on. He kicked, and kicked, and kicked the soccer ball around the yard. He splashed and squirted while playing in the pool. His little eyes were just full of light the entire weekend.

Watching him grow up so much breaks little pieces of my heart. Each time he learns a new word or goes down the stairs standing up I lose a little bit of my baby. Instead, standing in his place is the toddler--all sorts of grown up. When we tied the bandanna around this little Pirate King's head so he could swim and not burn his scalp, I saw it! It was the boy again. I have mentioned the boy a few times before, but basically it is when I look, expecting to see my 18 mo and instead find someone resembling more 3-4 yo. Gah! This Pirate was exactly that--a boy, full of adventures and trouble and fun. My 18 mo was gone, at least until the rag came off and he settled in my arms for his afternoon nap.

This kid even has stories he likes to tell. I mean, talk about grown up. He gets going on one of his tales and I am smitten with how much he remembers, comprehends, and connects. Utter awe every single time. There are three stories in particular have been on repeat this last little while.

The first one involves the traumatic death of a wasp that I swatted and stamped on in our family room. Littleman begins and swizzles his finger around in the air, says "bee" and "bzzzz" a few times between gibberish, and pretends to follow the flying wasp. Then he claps his hands together and points down to the ground describing the climactic death of the buzzing pest. He stomps his foot and them points outside, indicating the action I took to dispose of the body. 

His second favorite story to tell involves his lunch with GG, Lala, and Tio. They took him to Red Robin and let him watch a choo choo race round and round a track near the ceiling. Again he starts with the pointing up in the air and moving his hand around in the circle while joyously exclaiming "choo choo!" Then he takes a moment to mention the group at his table, naming them in succession. Then he says, "Where go?" while shrugging his precious little shoulders. This is when the track took our beloved choo choo into a tunnel and out of sight. Then the "choo choo" is back and the story starts over. It is like the song that never ends, but a million times cuter. 

The last story is one from our recent trip to the Orem Summerfest. Blakie was enjoying the snow cones and cotton candy in all of their sugary glory when he heard the blades of a chopper. He starts this story out trying to duplicate the sound of a helicopter, which is cute and comes out mostly like "brrrrm, brrrrrm, brrrrrm."  Then the finger is up and spinning round and round. "Tio" is also involved in this story because he held Blakie on his shoulders and ran him over to where the chopper landed and later when the chopper took off. To top it off, Nana and GG picked out a cute helicopter book at the Summerfest that has several pages and a little copter that follows a little track around each page. He loves it and whenever he finds it he begins his little helicopter tale. 

I know that all too soon the gestures and simple sounds he makes right now to tell his stories will fill in with words and even more understanding. I know, when that time comes, I am going to sorely miss these little, simple, inarticulate mumbles that I completely understand. I know, I will love them and love him so much. I know I will also be missing my baby boy. 

Oh Pirate King! You have my whole heart. Now tug up your britches and lets learn to swab the deck shall we?

       



     

A Summer Picnic of Sorts

Just before I left to go to camp I had several letters to write. I knew the task was going to take a least a couple of hours, but we had already been cooped up for most of the day. So instead of holding up inside for my letter writing task, Blakie and I took to the outdoors. I spread out our picnic blanket, collected a few strawberries from our front patch, and we enjoyed the beautiful, breezy afternoon. My notepad fluttered in the wind. My pen scribbled busily. Even K.B. wanted to compose a sweet, loving message all on his own. 

We don't have many summer days like that one--cool and refreshing. Usually things around our home get hot and sticky in a hurry. We want time at the pool and seek out shade everywhere we go. But not this day. This day things were perfectly lovely. It was cool enough to enjoy, and sunny enough to still be summer. And nothing beats fresh, I mean super fresh, strawberries.

A Year Ago Today

I can't even really remember much of this chubby, non-walking, non-talking Littleman. It seems a lifetime ago he was so small, so helpless and so thoroughly reliant upon me. Yet it has only been one year. I am in awe of how much has changed in the last 12 months; not only his changes and growth, but mine as well. We have grown so close as a family. He is so much a part of my life that I swear everything revolves around him. He is the new sun to my solar system. I love him so much and so deeply, like nothing I ever knew I could feel. 

Even so, I can feel the pulling away. With every new word he learns and running, skippy-step he takes he is becoming more and more independent. He is needing me less and less and bits of my heart are tearing away.  To top it off, this week I am leaving for a four day camping trip, my first four days away from this guy. Just writing it strikes me with a pang of loneliness. I know it will be a good thing in the end, but man it is rough. Four days of no diapers, clingy hands, whinny needs, but also no smiles, laughs, and lighting eyes. It's only four days, but FOUR WHOLE DAYS!

The ups and downs of being a mom, no wonder women get so moody. It is a hard, wonderful job. The most fulfilling role I will ever fill and I am so grateful for the chance to be given this mighty responsibility.

And to my Littleman--I will miss you terribly, I will think about you all the time, and I will be loving you for forever. I hope this week goes by quickly. I pray you will not grow up too much while I am away. You are the end of my earth and heaven. You are mine, always. 

That Binky Needs to Go

...but perhaps not just yet. 

Changes have slowly been happening in this house, then as soon as I feel like I am making progress it all gets turned on its head. Let me explain. 

First I have started to cut nursing out of the daily routine. It still happens on occasion, but only about once every three days. This has been hard for me, but is not appearing to be such a big deal for our Littleman. He will still nurse if I make the effort, but he can go to bed and start his day with just a bottle of plain old milk. No big deal. No need for mommy. Breaks my heart a little bit, knowing how quickly he is growing and becoming less dependent on me.

In addition to the nursing changes, we are also working to wean him off of his binky. Let me just say, binky weaning is the pits! The "nie nie," as he affectionately calls it, has been tethered to his shirt for most of his life. He can count on it to bring comfort and solace whenever he is sad, hurt, grumpy, and tired. Therefore, as would be expected, this transition is proving to be much more difficult. For the most part we were doing fairly well keeping him off of it unless we were in the car, napping, or going to bed. The change was slow, but progressing. Then came the sickies.

 The binky weaning was suddenly made even more impossible when Littleman caught a terribly long lasting bug a couple of weeks ago. Just when we were making it through most of the day without our "nie nie" the only thing that could console this kid was the one thing we were trying to be rid of. 

Needless to say, we are pretty much starting over now that the sick bug has receded  He can go for a couple of hours without it, but then wanders around the house calling for his little pacifier friend. He asks me where it is, takes me by the hand, and I "look" for it with him while discretely carrying the binky around in my pocket. The game distracts him momentarily, but he can quickly become distraught once we have made our way from room to room with no success. I try to distract him by reading books, playing with his choo choo, and kicking a ball around. Sometimes it works. Other times I am not quite so lucky. He is persistent and my determination wears down, especially when he starts pleading.

Confession: I am so weak when it comes to his little begging voice. Recently he has even learned how to say "peas" (aka please) and will tack it on to the end of all the other words he knows. "Cheese peas," he says every time I open the fridge. "Cookies peas," he whispers when the pantry door swings open. And most heart-melting of all, "nie nie peas." How can I say no to such a polite request from that angelic little face? I can't, lets be honest. In the end he gets the "nie nie" and I get to come up with yet another new and entertaining way to distract him while also snatching away the peace maker. 

Let's just say, as of right now, the "nie nie" and I have a hate/hate relationship. I hate that my baby boy is so reliant on this bit of rubber and plastic, but I also hate taking it away and having him become a grump. Sigh. I'll say it once more--binky weaning is the pits!

The First Hair Cut

Well folks, we did it, sort of. We sort of did it. We gave this kid a hair cut. Honestly, the mullet hair was making me a little crazy. It was poking out around his ears, sticking awkwardly out of his shirt collars, and getting boogies tangled in it when he slept. Seriously, this morning there was a boogie dreadlock in the front of his hair I had to wipe at repeatedly with a warm sponge to untangle. Gross! It simply had to go, at least a little bit of it. So we had G.G. come over with her new, stellar hair clippers and go to work. 

Littleman was awesome for his first experience with a buzzing shaving device touching his head. He was curious at first and just sat there. After a couple of passes he got bored and wanted out of the highchair, but he didn't fuss or throw a fit. He just wobbled his head and raised his arms a bit. It only took about 5 mins to trim up the back and even out the sides. Not bad at all! Then we were done. There was a small heap of hair on the floor and a deliciously visible neck. I'm in love!

G.G. asked if I wanted to sweep up the little heap of blonde hair to keep in a memory book. I was like, ick no. I think I will have plenty of pictures to prove just how blonde and hairy this little boy was. No need to save the trimmings. But, now that they are collected in the dusty vacuum I kinda wish I HAD kept them. What if I want to feel that soft precious baby hair again? What if, starting now, my Littleman's hair starts to get darker and darker? What a bunch of regrets I had suddenly come up with getting all sentimental about a heap of hair. Sheesh! Mother stuff, it can be crazy sometimes. 

No, I didn't sift through the vacuum and sort out his hair. I'm not that desperate. But I am going to miss this little blonde, 18 MO!!!! head of hair. I can't believe it. He was officially 18 months as of yesterday. They grow way too fast. 

Baby Teenager

Sometimes I dress this kid up like a teenager on purpose. I give him a rock and roll tee and some denim, then BAM I can see what he might just look like at 12 or 13. It doesn't help that he is the spitting image of Superman and I've seen pics of him as a teen. The resemblance is startling, it really is. I compare the two and I suddenly start catching sight of what sports, high school, acne, and teen drama might look like on my own son. Ah! And I know it will come all too soon.

 These littlest glimpses into the future, while they scare the heck out of me, are also oddly fascinating at the same time. During these catches of light my role as his mommy gets jarred back into perspective. All the time I have spent wallowing comes to a halt. I stop feeling insignificant and unimportant. I stop feeling sorry for myself and unproductive. I stop feeling depressed about the seemingly mundane tasks of my everyday. The negative stops and I start feeling something heavier, but in a happy way.

When I think of my Littleman's future I start understanding just how critical it is for me to help this kid not grow up too fast. I recognize just how special every single day of his childhood really is. I see my mommy role become as lofty as any CEO or practicing physician. I am important. The work I do in my home is the most significant work I will ever do. Where I am right now, showing this kid the ins and outs of life, is the only thing I need to be doing because all too soon he will be grown up and gone. He will be out tackling the scary world all on his own. I need to build the foundation so he can stand on his own two feet and hold his head up high. It is intimidating, oh yes. But it is also something I am meant to do. 

Until then, we will just dress up like teenagers and play like toddlers. 

     

The Thing About Sleep

Sleep is incredibly important in this house, let me tell you. Things go a whole lot smoother when baby takes two naps every day and then proceeds to sleep his usual 11 hours at night. I love the schedule we have worked so hard to build and maintain. It helps me feel like I have a real good handle on this whole mom thing. I mean, yay, I am doing one thing right! 

Then weird stuff starts happening. Two naps turn to one for a couple days in a row. Long hours zonked out at night get suddenly broken up with fits and crying. I sit there in his little room with the lamp on, rocking my Littleman, wondering where it had all gone. Seriously, where are all those good times? Where are my 11 hours of uninterrupted sleep? I had this thing down. I was an expert at getting my kid to sleep. Why, oh why, oh why? 

Then I remember, oh yeah, we are making changes. For my Littleman it is kind of a big change. We are trying to wean him off of bedtime nursing. I still nurse him every morning, but have been slowly, painstakingly slowly, getting rid of it right before bed. And guess what, change is hard, and in this case it is hard and sad for both of us. I never thought I would grow to love nursing as much as I have and I will certainly miss it when we are through. So at night I hold him a little closer. I rock him a little more gently. I sing to him. I sit bewildered at this beautiful boy who just wont stop growing. Together we mourn the loss of this phase in our relationship. The past week has been kinda sad, a bit melancholy. The lack of sleep can be hard, I won't lie. I am totally getting the song now, because this whole growing up thing is killing me softly. But we are getting through it together. Struggling, together. It is sad, but beautiful in its own way. 

Despite the fact that we are giving up bedtime nursing, I am still desperately clutching to a few baby rituals. Here they are, the things I am not yet willing to give up:

Holding my boy while he naps. 

The sleep-sack. Never!

Three bedtime stories. 

Sitting in the back seat with him. 

Reaching back every time he puts out his hand out for mine. 

Sitting on the floor to play "beep beep" or "choo choo"

White onesies.