One Year Later

Following a very dry holiday season, we are finally getting some rain in northern California. This time last year we were practically drowning, and had to make sure that the crawl space under the house didn’t get too flooded, lest we end up with rain water INSIDE the house. Because Gideon had just started walking when we moved to this house, I kept letting him run around outside in the rain probably longer than most other parents. He really enjoyed it then, and still does.

Or at least he did before he tripped over his rain boots and fell into a puddle today. I only laughed quietly to myself when his back was turned.

Gratitude

This was the sunset as seen from our local soccer field a few nights ago. I took the boys there just before dinner so we could get some fresh air and a little perspective following an extremely difficult day. It worked… for me, at least.

Things have been pretty insane at our house these past two weeks, and mainly because the illness that started with Stefan and Audric spread to me and Gideon (who, thankfully, only got a mild version), and basically we haven’t gotten more than a handful of hours a sleep a night. Every night.

As you can probably imagine, this situation has created A LOT of stress and none of us have been easy to deal with. Stefan had to miss a day of work so that I could take fistfuls of meds and indulge a nap without children beating down my bedroom door. And I’ve come close to dropping off both kids at the local orphanage given how challenging they can be when sick AND tired. Go figure.

I said to Stefan that the boys like to take me right to the edge, then dangle off my neck. He said that was a scary metaphor. I said I was being diplomatic.

But things are finally starting to calm down a bit and I am eternally grateful, if only so that I can enjoy a somewhat normal night’s sleep in the near future. Then this morning I noticed that Audric’s two top teeth are popping through his gums.

Maybe he won’t notice.

Holiday Spirit

We’re all sick this week, the result of several germs that invaded our house at the same time. But despite the fevers, runny noses and general malaise, spirits have been pretty upbeat. And we had a wonderful Christmas.

A cowboy hat for those days when he feels like adventuring.

Apparently, Santa can read toddler scribbles and Gideon got almost everything he asked for this year. We don’t want to encourage too many gifts during the holidays, and Gideon was overwhelmed as it was with the number of gifts he received from various people, but he was ridiculously excited to find actual presents under the Christmas tree and to discover that Santa had eaten the cookies and milk he left out the night before.

He’s since recovered from his excitement and managed to share his new toys with Audric and even with us once in a while. I think the holidays are his new best friend.

Meanwhile, Audric wasn’t impressed. But he did get a few new teddy bears and some clothes, including the most adorable hat ever made for babies. Ever.

So I think he’s okay with the fanfare. For now.

It was really nice to spend some quality time with my boys this year. Being the only girl in the house is sometimes kind of nice.

Turning Thirty

Dear Gideon,

Five days ago, you threw your last pacifier (known as a “wee” around here) in the garbage can. You did it unbidden, and it followed a rather long weaning process we started about six weeks ago. The pacifiers were becoming a problem, since you kept them firmly in your mouth for hours during the day and were starting to get a little rash around your lips from the collected saliva and dirt.

Plus you talked funny while holding a piece of rubber in between your teeth. Imagine what future dates would have said had you asked them to “kith” you?

Yeah, no kidding. You’re welcome.

Truthfully, you didn’t pick up a pacifier until you were almost ten months old, and it happened then because you were waking up a few times a night to nurse and we thought the pacifier would help wean you off the breast for better sleep. We were right, but then it became a habit. And as habits go, this one made you think that you couldn’t go more than a few hours without that fix, helping to alleviate any anxiety, tiredness or boredom you felt throughout the day.

But this story is remarkable because while the past few days have been tough (like any junkie, you have gone through withdrawal and its been filled with tears directed at everything but the true villain), you’ve stuck to your guns and have emerged on the other side bravely and resolutely. Only once have you asked for the wee, and only after a tiring morning of much outdoor time. I have let you be the person to throw each pacifier (there were six) in the garbage as each one reached its expiration point, and you were very mature in handling the entire experience.

Your father and I have never been prouder, as it is evidence of the incredibly self-possessed person you are becoming. But I must admit it has been a little heart-breaking to watch our two-year-old son walk alone to the garbage, step on the pedal, and toss in the things he has held so dear to his heart. Quite the experience for all of us, I guess.

So now we are “wee-less”, and you are continuing on your path to growing up with hopefully straighter teeth and clearer diction.

Speaking of clearer diction, during the past three months, you have shocked your father and me with the witty and intelligent banter you repeatedly engage in. It’s like you intuitively get how to be social, and can fit yourself right into any conversation being had, whether you’re invited or not.

 

Your imaginative play skills have skyrocketed, and you spend much time during the day having long conversations with your toys, be they machine, animal or person. You have memorized most of the books you own– not an insignificant feat considering how many there are– and you now read them to us or to yourself.  You have also learned the words to many real songs (not just the ones you still like to make up about household items), and can sing more or less on-key.

Great White Way, watch out.

I’m also amazed, as are strangers we meet, at how engaged you are when other people are present, responding to their questions as best you can and offering a greeting and farewell in proper order. I have been complimented several times by complete strangers at how polite and calm you remain while I talk to other adults, a remarkable trait for a person as young as you. I always respond that I am very proud of you, and will be even prouder if you still exhibit this character when you turn thirty.

(Note that I’m glaring fiercely at your future self as I write this, young man.)

So, this week you turn thirty months old and we now march forward to the latter half of your second year. I can hardly believe it. The proverbial statement about time and flight holds true, and my neck hurts from the speed at which it all happens. Despite the bad rap, I actually think the second year of a child’s life is wonderful, filled to the brim with new physical and mental skills that help turn you into an adult, and I will miss this year. The tantrums I can do without, of course, but even when you are at your worst I see the growth that is happening and love that.

And I love you. Keep changing for the better, tigerito, but don’t ever stop being who you are.

Con mucho amor para siempre,

Mami (“Okay, Mama. Okay.”)

Excuse Me, Please Stop Talking

I don’t know how it happened, but about six months ago (hmmm, maybe around the time that Stefan was home for Audric’s birth…?), Gideon got into the habit of watching television for as much as two-and-a-half hours during the course of the day. One show here, another show there, and he was lost for a couple of hours.

This is not a habit that I liked very much, as it meant our two-year-old was asking me about twenty times a day if it was time to watch TV yet and preferred that to playing outside. A pox on the house of television, as far as I’m concerned, given how readily it rots brains with senseless entertainment and asks us to buy tons of junk we don’t need in return.

Yes, spoken like a true communications professional, right? Well, I do this for a living, so I know better than to trust anything that’s put in an electronic box and repeated 1,000 times during the course of a season. Someone’s trying to sell you something, so watch out.

Anyway, this habit emerged probably because there was a newborn in the house and not a lot of time to entertain said toddler, and before I knew what was happening I was battling him every day on what we could watch and when. So about two months ago I put an end to it, telling him that we would be watching only one hour of television a day and only in the evening as I prepared dinner. End of story.

(We do watch YouTube videos on my iPad occasionally, and this takes the place of his alloted television time, but more on this later.)

At first, there was a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth, as the television addiction reared its ugly head and Gideon insisted that he “NEEDED” to watch Dora or Mighty Machines or Kipper or whatever other children’s show we get on Netflix Instant. But after the tears dried up and he realized this was the new world order, he stopped whining and just got super excited when it was finally time to watch his special show.

The unintended consequence of this is that the rest of the world disappears during that hour of television, regardless of who is in the room or what is happening in his immediate surroundings. Useful when I’m juggling dinner on the stove and an over-tired infant who needs to go to sleep IMMEDIATELY.

Not so good when one of us is trying to get his attention to do something and he’s acting like we’re part of the wallpaper.

This past week, Stefan and I were indulging in a rare Saturday afternoon conversation with each other on the couch while contemplating what to make for dinner. Gideon, who was especially enjoying his alloted one hour, was standing about a foot away from the television (I’m sure some of you are writhing in your seats now after reading that last sentence. Sorry guys, but that myth was busted years ago.), and was acting more and more annoyed. Finally, in a moment of exasperation he turned to me and said, “Excuse me, please stop talking.”

Impeccable manners, that one.

****

We’re getting ready for Christmas around here, and the excitement is mounting. This will be the first Christmas that Gideon really gets what’s happening and he has been writing letters to Santa almost every day now for about six weeks. By “writing letters to Santa”, I mean he sits down at the kitchen table with a pen and paper, and scribbles what approaches a list at least by design.

I’m usually ordered to dictate the words for these letters, as I guess he thinks I know what he wants as well as he does. Which is true, considering how much time we spend together. But the list just gets longer and longer, and lately has been changing frequently so I’m corrected all the time.

“No, Mami. Not a snowplow. A TOY tractor!”

Good thing you emphasized the “toy” part, cause otherwise Santa might bring a real tractor, I tell him. And then where we would park it?

Today we were watching YouTube videos while Audric was taking a nap, and as usual he requested that we watch talking cows. Yes, believe it or not this is a search term for YouTube and turns up a remarkable number of videos with talking cows of varying kinds. Some rated G, some not so much.

So I usually point out the ones that he can watch and skip the rest. And as we were snuggled on the couch watching these videos on my computer, he turns to me and says, “Mami, I’m going to ask Santa for a talking cow.”

“Really?” I ask. “A talking cow. You want a talking cow for Christmas?”

“Yes, a TOY talking cow.”

Thank goodness, child. Cause THAT’S what we need in this house: Another chatterbox.