It Took Forever to Paint but Totally Worth It
Happy Pirate Boy
It Had to be Blue
Pirate Booty Treat Bags
Finger Puppet Pirates
Blue Jewels and Gold Coins
Prepare to Walk the Plank
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March 22nd, 2010
Dear Gideon, In just a couple of days you will be three years old. THREE. Holy crap. For whatever reason I feel compelled to catch up on your monthly letters before that happens. I know, I know, it is just one more item to add to the list of neurotic things your mother does. Trust me, one day that will be a very long list. I’m okay with that and although it will thoroughly embarrass you as an adolescent, many years from now you may actually find it charming. Anyway…months 34 and 35.
I imagine one day you will read these letters and notice that I tend to fail when it comes to writing them in a timely fashion. My goal is always to get them written within a couple of days of the 24th of each month. That rarely happens and this is by far the longest I have gone without writing you a letter. It has been a rough couple of months for me and I just haven’t been in the right frame of mind to compose a heartfelt letter to you. But that hasn’t stopped YOU from being truly amazing and plowing full-speed ahead in terms of growth. And thankfully, you are ALWAYS the highlight of my day (the good and the bad days).
On January 15th, you came up to me, lifted my shirt, kissed my belly and said, “I love you baby.” Sweetly, compassionately, and without any prompting. My heart melted in that moment. The next day I lost the baby and my heart broke. I was confused, angry with the world, and devastated. I had no idea how I was going to tell you what had happened. How do you explain that to a two and a half year old? I wasn’t sure if you could understand but I couldn’t have you say “I love you baby” to my now empty uterus. So, as I held you in my arms that afternoon before your nap, I told you that the baby was very sick and wasn’t gong to grow in my belly anymore. And you cried. Which made me weep. There we stood in the darkness of your room that Saturday afternoon sobbing over our loss. I immediately questioned whether or not I had made the right decision by telling you at that moment. Looking back, I’m not sure there is any easy way. I’m still not sure how much you understood in that moment either. But your reaction was completely appropriate and somehow cathartic. Oddly, that wasn’t the only loss you suffered that day. While you were taking your bath that evening I picked up your much loved binky. Holding it in my hand I noticed four small holes in the nipple from your tiny sharp teeth. Those holes compromised the integrity of the binky and made it a health hazard. You couldn’t have it back after that. That was the last binky we had in the house and your Dad and I had no intention of buying you a new one. And just like that you were done with the binky. You never really complained or asked for it again. You were ready to let it go, you just needed the push. I had this grand idea of tying it to a balloon and having you let it float away as a final goodbye. We never did that and it is still sitting in the medicine cabinet collecting dust. One of these days it will end up in the trash. Thanks for making it so easy.
Rest assured that the last couple of months have been more than just heartache and loss. Even on the darkest of days you have been a shining example of all that is right in the world. One day while I did a bit of work in the office you came in “driving” your car with your “lunch” in hand. You came in to give me a hug and kiss along with a wave goodbye because you were “going to work”. So adorable. On more than one occasion you have looked at me and said, “You’re beautiful.” Wow. What was I saying earlier about your ability to melt my heart? It goes triple for statements like that.
Talking to you continues to be one of my favorite things to do and I am absolutely smitten with some of the phrases that come out of your mouth. One phrase in particular that always makes me giggle and that I would never correct is “piggy-ride back”. What you really want is a piggy-back ride but EVERY time you say “piggy-ride back”. And EVERY time I give you one without hesitation and with a smile on my face. Because to me, that is just perfect.
Love, February 23rd, 2010
Sometimes it is the subtle little things that make me smile even bigger in an already joyous moment. Have you any woof? from Artist Mother Teacher on Vimeo. And sometimes it is the not so subtle and somewhat inappropriate things that make me laugh so hard I sound like a 90 year old woman that has been smoking too long. That is some fancy necklace you have there from Artist Mother Teacher on Vimeo. Take a couple minutes and watch these. If you don’t at least smile you are dead inside. January 11th, 2010
Dear Gideon, Every once in awhile I find myself having to choose whether to be a straight-faced parent or to just laugh hysterically when you say something inappropriate (whether you realize it’s inappropriate or not). Since I tend to have the maturity level of a 12 year old boy, I usually choose the latter. When we had the following conversation a couple of weeks ago it took everything I had to not keep laughing until I either cried or peed my pants. I had to actually contain myself and tell you it wasn’t a nice thing to say even though it was HILARIOUS! ME: (while changing your diaper) P.U. You have a stinky butt. Seriously, how could I not laugh? Never mind the fact that it is incredibly inappropriate. It was a perfectly delivered comeback by a two and a half year old. With barely any hesitation. Priceless.
You are totally a Momma’s boy right now and while I imagine it makes your Daddy jealous, I absolutely LOVE it. The snuggles. The kisses. The requests for me to sing you a lullaby each night I’m home from work and able to tuck you in bed. The way you always call out “Mommy” when you wake up from a nap or night’s sleep. Every one of those moments is a treasure to me because I know they won’t last forever. Which makes me incredibly sad.
I’m pretty sure you are the sweetest and most charming little boy I have ever met. This morning when I finished getting dressed for work and was putting on my glasses you looked at me and said, “You’re Beautiful.” Thank you for that. Last night as we walked hand-in-hand down the basement steps you were telling me how you are such a big boy. I agreed and said not to become a big boy too fast. Your answer to that was “Okay Mommy, I’ll stay tiny.” Yes, a thousand times over yes, please stay tiny. At least a little bit longer.
Love, December 9th, 2009
You know Dasher and Dancer all those other reindeer, right? This guy would probably be Rudolph since he has a red nose.
Cute, isn’t he? Want to make one or two or all 9 of them? Supplies:
Tah-dah! Now you have a ridiculously cute reindeer and a nice memory of the size of your child’s hands and feet if you hang on to it after the holidays. December 5th, 2009
Dear Gideon, Thirty-two months. That’s almost as old in months as I am in years. And just like every month prior, I think the little boy you are RIGHT NOW is the best yet. How do you manage, so effortlessly, to keep getting more awesome every day?
Talking with you continues to be one of my favorite things to do. Which is good because you are a pretty chatty fellow. Not only do you talk a lot, you also have a lot of interesting things to say. One afternoon you climbed up on a chair in the kitchen to watch me make your lunch—you love to be close to the action when we are cooking. When I was finished you looked at me and exclaimed, “Scrumptious!” It was ridiculously cute—not to mention flattering—and when asked you where you learned that word you said, “TV”. Thank you PBS for teaching my son to appreciate the finer qualities of a PB & J with yogurt and mandarin oranges. Speaking of PBS, a couple of weeks ago I was in the office and you yelled to me, “Mom, come here.” You wanted to tell me that Snook from It’s a Big Big World had seen a rainbow. Testing to see if you could tell me what that meant I asked, “What’s a rainbow?” Your response? “Water and sun.” Umm…wow. I was totally impressed. I half expected you to follow up with Newton’s experiment and start grabbing prisms to refract light through.
Just like your mom, you are becoming quite the technology junkie. You LOVE playing games on the iPod and I kid you not, as I was writing that sentence you came up to me and started chanting “iPod. iPod. iPod.” Which means you either picked up on my thought or we may need to stage an intervention.
Lately you have been really getting into music. You love to sing and amaze me with how many songs you actually know the words to. You also love to dance. We were recently cranking out the tunes on the stereo one day while making dinner and you were running around the living room like a madman yelling, “Rock ‘n’ roll! Rock ‘n’ roll!” The song playing at the time was I’d Like to Know by Supergrass. Which is a pretty rockin’ tune if you ask me. Rock on little buddy. Rock on. Love, November 27th, 2009
I was looking through an old photo album earlier trying to find a somewhat humiliating image from my past that might be good for a post about my awkward teen years. I found one—actually I found MANY—but I also found something far more significant. Something that I was looking for a month ago and never found. Probably because I looked half-assed but that’s beside the point. All that matters is I found it and I’m not going to wait another moment to share it with you. Even if it is the end of November and everyone is looking ahead to the winter holidays. Nobody is thinking about Halloween anymore but that doesn’t really matter because… Um… Well just look.
See that little kid in the lion suit? This lion suit? That’s me. And finding this makes me so excited I could pee a little. You see, my mom made that lion suit for me when I was a little kid. It has been worn by a BUNCH of people—me, the neighborhood kids, my brother a decade and a half later. My mom made the mane out of an old coat and it fit all sizes but she also made a separate suit for adults so my dad had also worn it at one point. I wore the costume again as a teen and JQ wore it several years ago. And then this year my son wore it. How awesome is that? Also, how awesome is that plastic rabbit costume my friend on the right is wearing? Wicked cool. October 6th, 2009
Dear Gideon, A couple of weeks ago you turned 30 months old. Which means you have officially passed the two and a half year mark. How the hell did that happen? Just the other day I was looking at pictures from when you were just weeks old. You as a tiny baby seems like just a moment ago and at the same time forever. Somehow, in a fleeting moment, I have become the mother of a full-fledged toddler. And I love you more than I have ever loved anything. You have days when you can be a real challenge—but you’re 2.5, that’s normal. You are becoming independent—I get that. Sometimes that independent personality lands you in timeout. Even so, right now you are the perfect age. I know I say that every month but it’s true. You just keep getting better and better.
I can honestly say you are one of my favorite people to hang out with. Talking to you is lots of fun these days. You know and understand so much that we now have actual conversations. One day we were watching Bob the Builder together and you looked at me and said, “That guy has a beard and a mustache. That’s funny, Mom.” I have no idea why you thought it was so funny but I made you say it again because the way you said mustache was hilarious. Mus-stay-shh. Just as good is the way you say “I love you, Mommy.” (or Daddy) without being prompted. There is nothing funny about it, just pure bliss. If I pick up my keys or my purse you ask, “Where you going, Mommy?” If I get into the linen closet you ask, “Are you gonna take a shower?” When you get up in the morning you ask for two things—something to drink and if you can “watch a little PBS”. Like I said, we talk like two people having a normal conversation.
Every month I try to think of the cute things you do and the milestones you reach so I can tell you about them in these letters. But time seems to be moving at mach speed and the days are all blending together. I really need to write things down when they happen so I don’t forget. I know you played your Dad’s trumpet for the first time in these last couple of months—and you were pretty good at it. I know you’ve been boycotting the potty—but I’m not sure why. I know you told your Daddy he was your best friend. I know the other day you hung off my leg as I walked out the door because you didn’t want me to go to work.
I know that you are ridiculously smart.
And I know without a doubt, that you are growing up too fast. Love, August 8th, 2009
Dear Gideon, “Let’s snuggle.” That’s what you said to me Thursday evening as we sat at the bottom of G-Gi’s staircase watching Daddy slide down the stairs on his butt. A task which you insisted that Daddy try after I had taught you that amazing new method of descending a flight of carpeted stairs just moments berfore. And why wouldn’t he want to try it? After all, sliding down the stairs on your butt is pretty cool as long as you have on some pants—or at the very least, a pair of shorts. So we sat at the bottom to watch and you asked me to snuggle with you. To which I replied with a resounding, “Yes!” as we shimmied up to one another and did indeed snuggle. It’s times like that which make me never want to let you out of my grasp. Or let you grow up. Unsolicited declarations of “I love you, Mommy” make my heart swell and break all in the same fleeting moment. There are few words I’ve yet to hear uttered by you that could make me love you anymore. Still, those same words just reinforce the fact that you are growing up far too fast for my liking.
I mean seriously, wasn’t it just yesterday that I looked into the eyes of a helpless baby? Today you sit on the couch next to me and carry on real conversations. How does that even happen? Your only two. What’s next? Calculus? If so, you’ll have to ask Grandpa about that one—in my opinion math should have numbers in it, not half the alphabet. What is really amazing is hearing you say something that obviously required some forethought and deductive reasoning on your part. You no longer state just the obvious. Playing in the yard last week you put three rocks together. As you pointed to each one from largest to smallest you said, “Daddy, Mommy, Gideon”. Perfect. Then you put one more tiny rock next to the other three and pointing to each one said, “Daddy, Mommy, Gideon, sister”. What!? Where did you pull that from and what do you know that your Daddy and I don’t?
Earlier this week your Daddy went outside to do some work on the house while you and I played in the living room. He couldn’t have been gone more than two minutes when he came back through the door. Without missing a beat you looked up at him and said, “Did you forget something Daddy?” Your Dad looked at me and said, “Did you tell him to say that?” The answer was no, you had come up with that all on your own. Obviously he MUST have forgotten something to come back so quickly and you needed to know if that was really the case. It was. And it’s moments like those that all I can do is smile at the wonder that is you.
I really don’t have a good segue for this, but I can’t not talk about it. And by “it”, I mean your boy bits. Your penis. Or what you call your wiener. And for some reason I get a huge kick out of hearing you say it. You know hands down that boys have wieners. And girls? Well, according to you, girls have “ginas” (as in vagina but you tend to skip the “va” part). Ginas. I love it. You also know that everyone has a butt and when we went to get in the shower the other day you got very excited about the fact that we both had nipples. Of course, mine are just a little bigger than yours.
Mommy June 26th, 2009
Dear Gideon, A couple of days ago you turned 27 months old. Did you read that? A couple of DAYS. Not a couple of weeks or well over a month. Just a couple of days. Which shows what an awesome non-procrastinating mom I can be.
27 months—June 26, 2009 You are all boy now. The baby is gone—except for the tiny indications like diapers and your binky. At this very moment we are sitting on the couch together watching Curious George. Which you specifically asked for. “Mommy, I wanna watch this Curious George movie. The one with the animals. Panda bear, giraffes, monkey, elephant.” I’m having a conversation with a very smart and very descriptive little human. All day long. It is incredible.
Love, Mommy |
     
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34 months—February 4, 2010
35 months—March 2, 2010
33 months—December 30, 2009
31 months—October 27, 2009
32 months—December 1, 2009
28 months—August 29, 2009
30 months—October 1, 2009
