Next month you will be 2 1/2 which is FAR too close to 3, so let’s just not talk about it.
We’re about two months into our new adventure of me being home with you most of the week. I’m more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my life but so much less stressed out. I feel like I’m giving myself the space to be the mother I want to be. Sure we’re a bit strapped financially because I’m working less, but I know I will never, ever regret this time with you. As Tina Fey (this writer/actress that I have a girl-crush on…you’ll know what that is one day) said, ““What’s so great about work anyway? Work won’t visit you when you’re old. Work won’t drive you to get a mammogram and take you out after for soup.” That quote pretty much articulates where I am at this point.
The only tricky part about our new routine is that when you go into school on Wednesday mornings (you’re in school Wednesdays and Thursdays so I can go into the church office and work and so you’ll be all nice and socialized) we’re starting to see some more tears than usual. So I’ve made a point each evening to talk about what we’ll be doing the next day and chatting with you about in the morning as well. The nights before you go to daycare, we pick out your “school clothes” to kind of set you up for what’s going to happen the next day — that seems to help a lot. But honestly, I’m not too worried about it. Typically after the first few tears fall, Miss Ashley (your amazing teacher) asks you if you want to go feed Batman (the class fish) and you’re all “Mama who? I have stuff to do.”
You are now considered one of the “big boys” in your class — back when you started in November you were the youngest one in there. Apparently you and the other “big boys” like to play “football” during outside time. I’m told “football” involves one of you catching the ball, followed by the other “big boys” chasing you around while everyone screams and laughs and then falls down. Sounds about right.
I won’t go into too much detail here, but we are *thisclose* to embarking upon full-on potty training. I’ll be honest in saying that the only reason we’ve waited this long is that I have no problem changing diapers. What I DO have a problem with (at least now) is PAYING for diapers. I think we’ll go full force with it in a couple weeks. I’m excited and terrified because I have no idea what I’m doing. However, I’m sure, as with most major milestones in your life, you’ll just roll with it and be fine.
You’re such a big helper these days — and it seems that nothing pleases you more than to hear us say that you did a good job. You love to put things in the trash can, toss the napkins and dish rags in the hamper, and get a diaper out of the drawer before I change you. I only hope I can continue to encourage this behavior.
Books are still the biggest joy in your life (and the concept of a library continues to blow your mind). I’ve noticed that lately, you’ve been gravitating towards ones involving the phrase “I love you” or ones featuring a parent talking about how much they love their child. You want to read them over and over and over and over again — hearing “I love you” just seems to make you so happy. I think that fact, combined with how well you respond to praise, shows that verbal affirmations are going to be a big part of making you feel safe, secure, and loved. With all the talking you do, I’m not a bit surprised. On the same token, you seem to understand how “I love you” makes other people feel. When you can see that I’m tired or frustrated, you’ll come up to me and say “I love you” or “It’s ok, Mama.” You’re such an in-tune little guy, and that makes me so proud.
Last night you were having a very hard time falling asleep. Bedtime is always a bit more dramatic when I’m the one putting you down and quite the seamless affair when your dad is in charge; probably because I’m more likely to go back in a cuddle you when you cry. Yes, when it comes to you calling out for cuddles, I am a total chump, but here’s why: I figure I’ve got maybe (MAYBE) three more years of you actually *wanting* me to scratch your back and rub your head as you settle in for the night. I’m going to take what I can get.
Anyway, last night was particularly challenging for whatever reason, and at one point (after your dad and I each made several trips back into your room to try to calm you down), I heard you call out (in that pitiful, gaspy cry that you only have when you’re legitimately upset), “I…wah-wah-wanna si-si-sing in the rah-rah-rocking chaiiiiiiiiiir.”
Until you got your big boy bed right after Christmas, you and I used to sing in your rocking chair every night. Since you’re no longer in a crib, we’re able to cuddle up while we read books, so it hadn’t even crossed my mind that you might miss it. It hadn’t crossed my mind that *I* missed it until I heard you say it.
I scooped you up, wrapped you in a blanket, and settled us in. The thing that really surprised me was that you didn’t want to sit up in the chair; you wanted to be cradled and snuggled tight. I was so happy to oblige. And as I sang some of your favorite songs to you, your sweet little face — now showing that heartbreaking mixture of baby and boy — looking up at me, I shed a tear or two.
Oh, little man. The things you do to my heart.