Dear Kid,Quick update: you’re two now. You turned two on October 27. Yes, almost two months ago and BIG SURPRISE! - I’m late getting this note to you. Sorry. I’ve been busy limiting your iPad time and trying to convince you that what’s in mommy’s cup is the same thing that’s in YOUR cup. Someday it will be. Unless you start drinking white zinfandel.
Let’s get back to it. Today I have loved you for 770 days, not counting the days you spent occupying my torso. Here’s proof we gave you a party:
|You with Auntie Kat. Thank God someone|
normal joined our family. Thank Uncle Eric.
These last two years have brought many changes your way, including the addition of two cousins, - both boys - who will, in a moment’s time, be crawling around their parents’ house, causing them the same kind of general mayhem and destruction you do for us. I will watch from the sidelines, laughing, as many of my other friends (with children) likely did with me. (My friends who don’t have kids are understandably questioning my parenting skills.) It’s all fun and games until my brother catches your cousin creating an impressionistic piece of art on the living room window curtain using Chobani yogurt as his medium, enthusiastically exclaiming, “Look what Semisi taught me to do!”
|Mastermind of trouble.|
|Master of not getting your way. |
(No baby, no cry.)
I sometimes wonder how you interpret our presence in your life. Like, do you think we are just total buzz kills because we don’t let you swim around in the utensil drawer, pull all the clothes out of your closet, stick my finger nail polish brush inside the light socket, and wipe your nose with my hair? Probably. But I think if we’re doing things right, we’ll continue to cause you this kind of disappointment on a daily basis, with what I hope will be spurts of awesomeness in between.
|What? You've never seen anyone |
dressed up like Einstein before?
|Awesome. Until we had to get off of the ride.|
There are some things you enjoy doing that don’t involve our intervention on a second by second basis, however. They are as follows:
1. Hauling around all of my old purses and putting random things in them.
2. Playing with the iPad.
3. Trying on my shoes – the sparkly silver ones are your fave. Dad is pleased.
4. Playing with the iPad.
5. Helping dad shovel and rake leaves.
6. Taking a bath and farting in the tub and then side eyeing me with a coy smile to see if I notice.
7. Kitchen utensil mayhem.
8. Ordering Chinese with the iPad.
Yes. You have an iPad addiction. We now only let the iPad “surface” after bedtime, but you haven’t forgotten about its existence. The other night you woke in absolute hysterics. While lying in our bed with a pillow over my head (hoping to God you could “work it out” and fall back asleep) I began listening to your wails only to realize you were desperately shouting “iPaaaaaaaad…..” It was 2:00 a.m. Looks like I can toss out that “How not to get a girl pregnant” outline and replace it with a “How not to act like Rainman on your first date” outline. Because, you know, kids and technology. NO SOCIAL SKILLS. Unless of course you are helping someone with technology:
|Your GM 2's mom (honorary gramma.)|
She's pretending to let you show her something
because she is actually quite tech savvy.
Actually I shouldn’t say that. You have great people skills. Recently you’ve lovingly begun to refer to point at and openly refer to strangers as “bodies.” This is hilarious for me but really, really creepy for the strangers.
You do have a girlfriend and her name is Julia, though you have another girl on the side up in Alaska too (I won't tell Julia). Luckily you call Julia by name rather than referring to her as "body" too. That would be inappropriate for a whole different reason. She is a bit younger than you but she could take you in a fight which I can only assume is part of the reason you love her so much.
Other than that, you have great verbal skills. You pick up on things we don’t even realize. The other day your dad sneezed and you said, “Bless you, Daddy.” I mean, your Dad and I really aren’t that polite, so GOD ONLY KNOWS who is teaching you those kinds of niceties.
You still eat pretty much everything in front of you. Sushi? Don’t mind if you do! A bowl of salad? Yes, please! We lucked out.
Our most recent frustration with you comes at bedtime, where, for a time, we required the assistance of a young priest and an old priest (as your Uncle Eric describes it.) Your most recent trick, however, is one of silent protest. You bathe, have a nice bedtime story, and then you calmly let me lie you down and tuck you in, where you sweetly offer me kisses and a “Love you, Mom. Night Night.” I then proceed to walk out of your room and down the hallway, fist pumping the air while silently mouthing “WINNING!!!!!”
You can only imagine our surprise when, hours later, your father and I quietly tip toe into our bedroom to turn on the bedside lamp, praying we won’t wake you only to find you passed out in the middle of our king sized Temperpedic mattress, feather duvet up to your chin, blanket and bear in hand, and a pink satin ruffled eye mask perched atop your sweet little nose.
Once we put you back in to your own bed, I sneak in a few episodes of The Walking Dead, which I continue to find parallels our life with you perfectly. You walk like the dead, we tip toe around the house to avoid waking you in a fit of rage, and your father and I often scream HAVE YOU BEEN BITTEN?” to one another. That, combined with our continuous battle for control of the household, leaves us all exhausted and wondering WHY LORI HAD TO DIE.And yet, I LOVE having you around. When I walk through the door at night, you typically act like you’ve just won the grand prize on Minute to Win It. A river dance and a few hugs later, you’re back to destroying everything around you (but you’re smart to lead with that welcome). You give great kisses and hugs and the joy for life you exude makes my heart swell and my soul happy.
It’s December now, and you’re just now starting to get an idea about how awesome it all is. You shout “Santa” when we drive by our festive neighbor’s blow up lawn decorations at night (which also doubles as a Christmas massacre scene during the day.) What you don’t yet realize is that Santa brings you TOYS. I mean, you’re already a fan of the guy and you don’t even know the BEST PART yet. I hope you view everything in life that way…for the rest of your life.So Merry Christmas, kiddo. And don’t worry; you don’t have to get me anything. The best gift I ever received was closer to Halloween, anyway. You'll never be able to top it.
P.S. Stay little.