Made in Richmond

When he sleeps, he still has the “squeeze whatever is in my little hand” reflex. My heart…

A few weeks ago we bought a “pot.” Not pot. A pot. As in a “potty,” but we don’t call it that. It was on sale for $6 (down from $13, booyah), so I figured I might as well grab it since we’d need one eventually.

The pot sat in our bathroom, basically being ignored by JR. Occasionally he would put his stuffed animals on it, but otherwise he paid it little attention.

On Saturday, JR looked up at me and said, “Pot? Sit?” So we took him upstairs, sat him down, read and sang a little until he wanted to stand up, and what should we find? Pee. In the pot.

I was shocked, as was JR who screamed when he saw it. After calming him down and assuring him that this was normal, he said goodbye to it, and we flushed it.

Later that night, as I was reading him his bedtime story, JR kept interrupting to tell me that he had peed on the pot. He seemed both very proud of himself and completely confused as to what was going on.

He made three more visits to the pot on Sunday.

I didn’t expect to even approach toilet training until JR was at least two — he had never showed any interest and I didn’t want to rush it. Meanwhile, diapers aren’t a big deal to me, and JR rarely let me know of any business going on anyway. Shows how much I know.

He’s still not consistent (wet/dirty diapers after nap time and sleeping at night; wet diapers throughout the day, despite visits to the pot) but he’s definitely interested. Me? I have no clue what I’m doing.

I’m not going to chronicle our experiences with this milestone here (at least beyond this post) because I think it’s crossing over into the “too personal” arena, but I’d appreciate any advice or tips you have — particularly those of you who have experience training little boys.

So, in a word: HALP.

JR seems to be much like me in that the second he starts to even get the slightest hint of a cold, he gets a scratchy voice. His chirpy little voice turns to that of a smoking enthusiast in a matter of hours. I feel bad for him, but it’s ridiculously funny.

Also: “Ally-gay-tor”

Ross sent me this tonight. I’m not sure where he got it, but I had to share it because it so very much represents my life right now. Sad but true.

JR,

Lately when I’ve been writing these monthly letters, I’ve gone back to see where we were a year ago. Back then we were celebrating the arrival of your first tooth, your first plane ride, and your first chance to meet James and Jennifer, your wonderful and loving godparents who were off in Scotland being missionaries when you were born. Those are really great memories, but I’m also a fan of where we are now.

I guess as of today, you are officially 1 and 3/4 years old — oh so very close to 2 that I almost can’t stomach it.

You talk constantly and are stringing words together all the time. The other day we were walking somewhere and you didn’t want to be holding your water cup anymore. So you paused, held it up to me, and said “Mama hold it?” It was one of those times where I was stunned by the thought of “Whoa, he’s a person and I made him. Like he was in my belly, then he came out, and now he’s, like, a guy.”

While your communication skills are developing like crazy, you still have those typical moments of toddler frustration over not being able to express what you want. Those can lead to some pretty epic fits on your part, but you usually calm down pretty quickly when we give you a few things to choose from — most times we’re able to figure out what your deal is just enough to at least do that.

Speaking of fits, temper tantrums have made quite an appearance lately. You are one stubborn kid, and if we try to get you to do something that isn’t your idea, it can lead to some wicked crying. But please note: your father and I are a united front. This will not change. We love you, but that carrying on is not going to get you anywhere.

While the temper tantrums can be a tad maddening (also LOUD), it’s reminding us that you are, in fact, a whole person. You are extremely happy most of the time, but we’re starting to see different facets of your personality, some of which you clearly get from us. For example, you can be quite the surly one when you haven’t slept well (me) and usually after a day away from us, what you need most is a nice cuddle on the couch to chase away the crabbiness (your dad). You’re a bit hesitant around new people are experiences (me) but once comfortable, you are smiles and laughs (your dad).

Physically, you continue to sport some delicious pudge, but parts of you are beginning to thin out. Your little pot belly is almost gone, and your arms and legs are definitely getting longer. Some mornings it seems as if you’ve noticeably grown overnight. You’ve still got my fair skin, but have managed to get a little bit of color with the Summer sunshine. Your reddish hair is turning more blonde, but I’m holding out hope that it will redden back up once fall hits (that’s what your Aunt Phanie’s does and she claims she’s responsible for your red hair even though you aren’t blood relatives). Everyone says that you look like me, but I’m starting to see your dad in your facial expressions. I’m betting on you being a gingery version of him. Not a bad lot in life, my friend, because your dad is quite the looker, in my opinion.

Sleeping continues to go well. You’ve had a handful of nights over the last few weeks when you have fought going to bed, but I think those were due to some weird schedules (thanks to July 4th celebrations and what not) and just your growing general awareness of what is going on in the world around you. I think you’ve started having bad dreams, which breaks my heart a little bit, but you manage to shake them off pretty quickly. You’re still napping for 2 to 3 hours in the afternoon and a pretty solid 12 hours at night, so no complaints here.

Your dad is quickly becoming your favorite person. Lately when we drop you off at daycare, you prefer him to carry you inside so you guys can hug on your way up to the door. When he’s not with us, you ask about him often and make sure to point out things around the house that belong to him: Dada’s soos, Dada’s wat-ah, Dada’s hat. It’s very sweet and it makes me so happy to see how much you love each other.

One thing that has blown me away this month is your memory. Two stories come to mind…

First, several weeks ago, we had lunch with your Mamaw and Papaw at a restaurant near our house. Now, whenever we pass by that restaurant or stop in at the drugstore nearby, you point towards it and say “MANAH!” (your word for Mamaw). You also seem to understand that Mamaw drives a bright red car and consequently declare that ALL red cards are “Manah’s car.”

Second, again, several weeks ago, I took you with me to Kroger. I decided that you were finally big enough for us to get one of the carts that has a little car in front where kids can sit. It was the most pleasant shopping experience I’ve had in a long time. You clearly enjoyed it, too, because the other day, we were stopped at the intersection where you turn to get into the store’s parking lot, and you started shouting “CAR! RIIIIIIIDE! PEEEEEEEEEASE?” Now I think those car-carts are your sole reason for living because you talk about them constantly.

School continues to go well. You love your teachers and it’s wonderful to see how much they love you. You’re learning all kinds of new words and sounds, making friends, becoming such a big boy. Late last month I went to parent meeting after work, so I was later than usual picking you up. You were the last kid in your class (hello, GUILT) so the teachers were just hanging out and playing with you. When I walked in, you were carefully putting away the books the were out and about in the room. One of your teachers said, “He’s cleaning up. He always cleans up. In fact, he’s the only one who will really help clean up when we ask.” I mean, I’ve been proud of you before, but that was always for milestones and the like. This was for a behavior — one that we try to nurture in you. PARENTING WIN, SUCKAS. (I don’t know who the “Suckas” are, but you know.)

Oh, JR, I can’t even explain how much we love you. We love you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes; we love you to the moon and back; we love you more than we love Battlestar Galactica. And dude, that’s saying a lot.

Love,

Mama

It’s been over two months since I’ve updated you on the state of my face! How ever have you survived?

Guys, June was awesome. AMAZING. Most people I spoke to said it would take a good three or four months for the prescription to REALLY get things sorted out. For me, it took a little over four, but it was worth the wait. I went about six weeks with absolutely issues. As those of you who have had or currently have skin issues, six weeks is an incredible amount of time to have not one single blemish.

And then my uterus had to go and screw everything up.

Without going into too much detail, I had some cyst action happening all up in my business for a little while there. Luckily, this cyst action didn’t require anything particularly invasive and everything is a-ok, but it was decided to crank my birth control up a notch because I have what I guess you could call “enthusiastic” ovaries. I’m not sure what that means either, but I’m going with it.

While birth control pills are actually known to help control acne, there can be an adjustment period. I happen to be right in the middle of one. But I will not be disheartened! If clear skin can happen once, it can happen again. I WILL PREVAIL.

Until then, however, I am very thankful for L’Oreal’s Bare Naturale Gentle Mineral Concealer. That junx covers up anything. Trust.

After handing JR over to my mom (and after quite of few tears on JR’s part and some on mine) Ross and I celebrated our three nights/two days of freedom by eating at Lee’s Famous Recipe Chicken and going to see Eclipse. Because we know how to party.

On Friday we slept until the luxuuuuuuuurious hour of 8:30am and then headed up to DC, stopping only to get gas and for me to get a fountain soda. Regular Coke (see my previous mention about knowing how to party). We hit no traffic at all and only kinda almost died once upon getting into DC because I become an idiot the minute I leave Richmond’s city limits. The above picture is of our room at Helix Hotel. There was a bed curtain.

After lunch (which involved delicious pizza that I contemplated leaving Ross for), we took the Metro like grownups and found our way to the Newseum. I highly recommend this place, even if you do happen to run into individuals like those pictured here who thought it appropriate to “flash the 303 gang sign” in front of the Berlin Wall. But, I guess that’s what America is about, guys.

(But seriously, the Newseum is awesome, particularly the exhibit on Pulitzer Prize winning photos. I cried multiple times and felt lots of emotions. But don’t worry, Ross’s robot heart didn’t short circuit or anything.)

Saturday included a trip to the Natural History and American History Museums, but the World War II Memorial was the highlight of the day for me. Again, with the emotions.

More on this shot here. And go here or here to see a few more pictures from our weekend.

Thanks for a good time, D.C. You also know how to party.

I’m not actually sailing, I just spent a good portion of this weekend shouting that at Ross (I don’t remember why), so I thought I’d share this with you:

This isn’t totally unrelated to my life, though. Ross and I are taking a mini-vacay in DC this weekend (you could call it “A vacation from my problems,” much like the one Bob took in the film excerpted above, although mine will hopefully end with less dynamite). JR will be spending three (!!!!) nights with his Grandma while we nap, eat, learn things in our nation’s capital, end spend absolutely no time dealing with diapers. It should be great.

(Oh, but who am I kidding? I’m already having a nervous breakdown over being away from him for that long.)

(And as usual, our house will be occupied by two very annoying dogs and one very not-annoying friend of ours. So don’t get any ideas, readers-of-this-blog-who-also-moonlight-as-robbers.)