Dear Connor - 35 Months

Dear Connor,
Right now you are "spitting nails mad". This is because it's 7:45 pm and you have just been put to bed for the evening. I know if I go upstairs, you'll be standing in the middle of your room, face red and nose running, demanding that it's "morning time", tears as large as raindrops cascading down your face. We've moved your bedtime a couple hours earlier for one specific reason. You've stopped napping. You've learned something irreversible in your struggle for power and that is this. No one can force you to sleep. We might be able to put you into your room and even close the door, but no one can make you sleep. The thing is, you still NEED the nap. By the end of the day you are a raving lunatic so incredibly exhausted that you need to be put down early for your own safety if nothing else. However, by that time you are so over-tired and wound up, that you are certainly not “ready” for bed… and the bedtime battles have officially begun.
Eventually you fall asleep, but not before completely trashing your room, like you’re a rock star partying at the Hilton. We’ve moved all of the toys in your room into the closet, including your books, because you kept pulling the books into your bed with you. Now, the books wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t manage to bring the stack of three cubbies on wheels where your books are kept into the bed with you. I’m not sure how you manage to fit into the bed with all of that stuff in there anyway but you do.

That’s not actually the reason that we moved everything into the closet however. The reason it’s been moved, is something we like to call, “The Poop Factor”. You see, it would be impossible to write this month’s entry to you without mentioning the fact that if you are left alone for even a few minutes, even if it’s for “quiet time” in your room, you take vengeance by pooping in your diaper, pulling it out and spreading it on everything you can get your hands on. This includes books, toys, the bed and the carpet. You haven’t hit the walls yet and for this I am most grateful. To try and save some of your books and toys we’ve moved everything into the closet to keep it from being lost to The Poor Factor and so far it’s working, although there are stains in the carpet that might never be removed. We are hoping that this is just a stage and soon your grow tired of it, or ideally just realize how absolutely disgusting it is.

You grow more articulate by the minute and listen to everything we say. Or even worse, everything anyone else says. Even if they are saying it softly to someone else when we are walking past in the grocery store. You vocabulary amazes us all and we are so proud when you announce that Dora the Explorer’s Mommy is an Archaeologist. It might not be that impressive if you didn’t also understand that means that she “digs up old things”.

You are so gentle with the cat. I was afraid that you’d never be able to restrain yourself, so tempting is it to grab the tail or squeal loudly and watch him run. But it seems that little by little you are starting to develop some impulse control. Sadly however, Pink has been Pavlov-ed into being terrified of children, so he’s not so willing to experiment with this new stage of development.
Your Dad has been staying home with you while I’m working a contract position. At first it was like a vacation for me, 11 whole hours, (with commute) of child-free time each day. Now that the novelty has worn off, I’ve nothing to do, but miss you and your brother. I’ve always worried about you having separation anxiety when I leave you but one thing that I’ve learned while working is that while sometimes you don’t like the separation I go through my day feeling like a part of me is missing. Because it is.
I love you so much.
Mommy

Dear Tristan - 1 Year

Dear Tristan,
A year ago today after a mere 6 hours of labor you came into our lives. At first we feared for you, how easily you could become hurt sharing a house with a rambunctious toddler, but as you grew you proved your resiliency and eased our fears.
You were the second child and unexpectedly easier than our first. We weren’t as filled with paranoia and were much more confident in our parenting skills. This meant applying things we had discovered when raising your brother. Things which made our lives easier, for example, I slept when you slept which means I wasn’t crazed-sleep deprived Mommy. I nursed with confidence and even enjoyed changing your diapers. When you began to get colicky, I sacrificed all dairy and like flipping a switch you were cured. We were seasoned parents.

It’s because of this confidence that I was able to relax and enjoy you, savoring each new stage and smile, reveling in being Mommy for a second time. Cuddling with you in the bed, inspecting your tiny toenails and fingernails, gazing into your eyes and just enjoying you. I’m glad I did, because now… you don’t have time for any of that crap. You are busy, all boy and ready to rock and roll.

You are in so many ways like your brother and in so many more ways completely different. It seems that you are more cautious and less impulsive. You smile when you hear music and are gentle in nature. You respond to the word no and if our voices are raised just a little when we say it, sometimes your bottom lip trembles as you wrestle with the idea of disapproval being directed at you.
You are quite possibly the happiest baby I have ever seen and run neck and neck with your brother for title of cutest baby. You still wake us the in the middle of the night, demanding a bottle and sometimes a cuddle. You should be sleeping through the night by now, (or about six months ago) but you have the most pitiful little cry that we’d rather just make you a bottle than listen to you whimper.


You are already wearing 18 month clothing and have 16 teeth. You are incredibly tall for your age and are tough beyond belief… a result of being knocked over accidentally-on-purpose on a regular basis. Your words while somewhat indiscriminate are, Dada, Mama, Kitty and sometimes you try to say brother or Connor.

You struggle to keep up with your brother ensuring exhaustion at the end of the day for us as well as you. Often the two of you team up, coming together as you attempt to open child proofed doors or climb furniture to reach unattainable (and breakable) objects placed out of tiny hands reach. It’s only a matter of time before I find you sitting on his shoulders trying to reach some forbidden treasure.

A year ago today we had no idea how much love you would bring into our family or how much joy our hearts could contain. I hope the past year has been as incredible for you as it has been for us.
Happy Birthday Sugar Bear.
I love you,
Mommy

Pean-us among us

Connor and I are getting out of the shower when he asks, “Where is your penis, Mommy?”
“I don’t have a penis, because I’m a girl.”
“I have a penis!” he exclaims and then follows with, “Daddy has a penis!”
“That’s right, I reply, that’s because you and Daddy are both boys.”
He looks around the bathroom and stops his gaze on the bathtub. He points to the spout and says in an excited, (very loud) voice. “The bathtub has a penis, Mommy! THE BATHTUB HAS A PENIS!” as he jumps up and down pointing excitedly.
I guess to him, it’s quite logical. Not only does the bath spout protrude from the tub, but when the dials are spun it also pours out water. Penis indeed.