Made in Richmond

JR,

In three months, you will turn 2.

…

Moving on.

This time last year you were thinking about weaning and, repeating lots of sounds, and trying your hardest to say some real words. Still such a little baby!

Now you are SUCH a boy. Running, shouting, throwing, more shouting, more running, and so on. You love to play and talk and, oh, you are just so much FUN. And so EXHAUSTING. But in a really good way.

Sleep has been interesting this month. You still do quite well, but you fight going down for the night pretty consistently when I do bedtime. When Dada does bedtime, however, you have no problems at all. You’re starting to wake up a bit earlier, and for the last couple weeks you just shout “MAMADADDY!” from your bed until we come and get you. I’m hoping that’s a phase. I’ve found putting books in your bed so you have something to look at when you wake up helps a bit.

People keep asking me if we’ve moved you to a big boy bed yet. You have shown zero interest in climbing out of your crib, so we’ll keep you there for the time being. I can’t imagine what kind of mess you’re going to make in your room once we make that transition. Eesh.

You talk constantly. Constantly. You’ve even tried out words like “motorcycle”, “elevator”, and “hippopotamus”. It’s very cute. You also seem to understand about 95 percent of what we say, and sometimes you can carry out multiple instructions. For example, I can say, “Please go put your cup in the sink and bring me your shoes,” and off you go. Little things like that make us so proud of you — you’re quite smart and (usually) a good listener.

Temper tantrums are more frequent, as to be expected.* A new (and not very attractive, if I’m being honest) habit is to actually stomp your feet (like you’re running in place) while you scream. It actually looks pretty funny. It also never works, so you might as well drop it.

We’re still working on the concept of timeout. I think you’re starting to get it. You sometimes say the word to me after I tell you not to do something. We’re also working on apologizing, particularly when you throw food on the floor — food that your father has lovingly prepared. The other night, you threw most of your meal off of your plate, and I had you go into the kitchen and apologize to your Dada. There was actual looking at the floor and scuffing of feet as you made your way in.

You’re starting to be much more interested in other people, including your grandmothers and our friends. You particularly like calling people on the phone. Just this weekend you asked to call Gamma and “your Su-Su” aka our friend Susan who you had seen the night before. It’s fun for us to see you connecting with the people in your life, having your own little “things” with them. And it’s nice to see how much our friends and family love you.

Although, can you really blame them? You’re the tops!

Love,
Mama

*After writing this, your father and I endured the most epic temper tantrum we’ve ever seen. Dude, what the mess? Can we not do that again? Also, we still love you, despite the fact that you spent the last 96 minutes screaming at us.

The three of us walk, hand-in-hand, up to the door of JR’s school. We spot our reflection in the glass doors.

“I forget sometimes how little he is,” Ross says, laughing.

***

It’s close to midnight and Ross and I peek in on JR sleeping. He’s sprawled out in his crib, taking up every bit of space.

“He’s such a giant,” Ross whispers.

***

JR is currently standing with one foot firmly planted in boyhood and the other standing on tiptoe in the baby version of himself. He’s changing right in front of our eyes — sometimes it is so obvious and seems to happen so quickly that I feel my heart twisting in my chest. And then I hear songs like this and cry and nod and cry some more because it says it better than I ever could.

My mom and step-dad (Stewart) are kind enough to invite JR over for sleepovers about once a month or so. These little breaks have been wonderful for Ross and I — and it gives one set of JR’s grandparents (of which he has three, lucky booger) to love on him extensively.

When JR is staying over with my mother, I usually call around 8 to see how bedtime went. Nine times out of 10, my mom says, “Well, he just didn’t want to go to bed. He wanted to stay up and watch the races with Stewart.”

Of course he did.

On his most recent visit (when we were away from him for three entire nights SOB) he was about done *not* being at his house and was legitimately having a hard time settling down for the night — he was over the pack’n'play, over the strange room, you know. So my step-dad suggested that JR sit with him and watch the race for a little bit. JR cuddled up with him and my mom left the room for a minute. She came back to find this:

Apparently they were both snoring, too.

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”

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

(Please excuse Ross’s big, fat finger. It is big, fat, and in the way.)