Fast Forward

I'd like to write something poignant or profound here, but really, time is just flying around here. If you look UP to see it flying around, make sure your mouth is closed.

Having company last month was wonderful. Eddie even asked for Grandma after we dropped her off at the airport. (see, time DOES really fly)

This month is nearly half-over and I haven't a clue how much time has been spent on what. (apparently, not only does time fly, it is 'spent' like cash)(and we all know how cash is like water) (I'm seeing an earthy element to all this...air, water...)

But anyhow, this isn't supposed to be MY journal, now is it. But really, It's All About You Eddie, I tell him often. So, anything directed here really IS about him. He's currently sitting on the floor, watching something on PBS, and therefore allowing me to hang out a load of clothes on the line, finish painting the small boards on the porch and check out my seedlings in the garden. And, of course, spend time here.

In less than an hour we must be dressed and ready to fly as we're going to town with Ms. Geraldine, the retired schoolteacher who runs the grocery across the street. (really, it's just a little country market with milk, bread, moonpies, and a bunch of stuff I can't eat. I mean, I CAN eat it, but when 25 grams of fat disappears in less than three bites, you can be absolutely sure it will RE-APPEAR on the hips. Or the belly. Or the thighs...sigh.) See, Ms. Geraldine bought a new car, so we'll drive up together for her to take delivery of her new car and I'll drive the old jalopy back. Just kidding. It's a Lincoln something-or-other, and a not so old model at that.

I'm sure time will fly then, also. When we get back, I'll consult my seventeen mile long 'to-do' list and probably accomplish at least one of the items. Like, let the goats out. After that, let the toddler chasing and time-flying at home, begin.

Even though the days fly by, there isn't anything better than watching time fly WITH my little boy. Maybe today we'll throw a kite out there to sail around with our friend Time.

Company coming!

This is going to be a busy month for company. Today Grandpa Lou arrives from NJ and because of his work schedule (yes, he's retired, but still works) he can only stay until Tuesday morning... (insert sad smiley face here) but we're so blessed he can come and visit often. Little Eddie LOVES his Grandpa Lou. MeMe Carol is traveling in Europe for a couple weeks but I'm sure she'll be back down with Grandpa Lou by summertime (Eddie's Birthday is June 21st) and as usual, we'll have a great time.

On April 18th, Grandma Marie comes to visit from Colorado and she'll stay until the 28th, we can't wait.

Meanwhile, Gregg, Kathy and Eric are going on a mini-spring-break-vacation and we'll have the company of their four Great Danes; Lacy, Sophia, Star and Holly. I think they will drop the dogs off on Monday and be back before the end of the week.

So it will be a month of visitor, and we LOVE having company. I'm looking forward to it, and although Eddie doesn't really grasp the concept of someone coming to visit, he does love it when we have company. Humans or dogs.

Just hoping we can hang on the potty training progress we've made. You know how an interruption in routine can wreak havoc on those kinds of things.....

Hunting Eggs

Last Sunday the church (one of 20 in a five mile radius) put on an Easter egg hunt for the kids. Gregg, Kathy, and Eric were here at Hope Farms, so I grabbed a couple of baskets and we headed to the church.

A few of the older kids hid the eggs. The remaining older kids peered out the windows in a not-so-sneaky fashion and tried to spy on WHERE the eggs were being hidden. Eddie was the second youngest. The youngest was an adorable little girl in a cute denim dress named Savannah. Eddie seemed to follow her around as they gathered eggs, and at one point, I encouraged him to give her some of his eggs, which he did selflessly. So cute.

When we first went outside, I told him to look for the eggs, and it took him a few minutes to grasp the concept, but once he realized they were all over the place, I could hardly keep up with him. He was silent and focused the entire time, it was as though this was his first important JOB! haha! I wish I had a camera, because I'd have snapped photos of him in his jeans, spring colored button down shirt and coordinating vest. Yes, I even brushed his hair!

So, imagine a cute picture of said toddler HERE.

After all the eggs were gathered (who knows how many were left out there...) we went inside to open the pastel colored plastic halves to find a bible verse tucked inside. Ann, the Sunday School Teacher read corresponding verses and whomever had a matching verse won a prize. Of course, there were matching verses for all and every child got a prize. And then there was the bags of candy.

CANDY!!! Eddie loves candy. He loudly expressed his delight and shouted, "Mommy! open that one, baby want the big one! CANDY!! Chocolate!". It's a good thing Easter comes once a year. Along with halloween, Christmas, valentines, not to mention birthdays. Of course, I had to sample some of the candy for him, as to ensure it was fresh. hee hee!

This Sunday we'll probably hard-cook some eggs and hide them for Eddie to find. And eat lots of candy. And next year, I'll make more of a concerted effort to teach Eddie the reason for the celebration of this day.

He is Risen.

Presently, ...

There is a toddler and a puppy chasing one another around the house as it's yet a bit too cold to venture outside. There's usually some screaming and barking and little feet pounding the wood floors in this old farmhouse, and I love to hear that sound. Sometimes there is food stolen from his hands (read: puppy) and occasional boo-boo's that need to be kissed and hugged away. And then there are trying times which sound like this: "Eddie, get DOWN from there or you're going to get a spanking!!". Ahhhh. Sweet times.

And when it's quiet? Watch out. Oft times that means that there is an entire roll of toilet paper strewn about the house or a large box of baking soda dumped on to the pantry floor. It's hard to get mad when he's discovering something. And easy to get mad if you're trying to get ready to go somewhere and he manages to get muddy in 0.9 seconds after you open the door to walk to the pickup truck.

All in all, not much gets completed some days when toddler chasing takes priority over housecleaning, or gathering wood, or cleaning out stalls in the barn, but a little bit at a time gets done.

I'm being paged. It seems the puppy is under the bed with one of his favorite tractors, chewing the wheels off.

Must. Go. Rescue. John. Deere.

Mean Moms

I'm sure most of us have seen this before, no doubt in an email with 1245 other email addresses in the "CC to:" field.

Enjoy. I personally plan on printing this out when Eddie turns 11.

Mean Moms

Someday when my children are old enough to understand the logic that
motivates a parent, I will tell them, as my Mean Mom told me: I loved you enough
to ask where you were going, with whom, and what time you would be home.

I loved you enough to be silent and let you discover that your new best
friend was a creep. I loved you enough to stand over you for two hours
while you cleaned your room, a job that should have taken 15 minutes. I loved
you enough to let you see anger, disappointment, and tears in my eyes. Children
must learn that their parents aren't perfect..

I loved you enough to let you assume the responsibility for your actions
even when the penalties were so harsh they almost broke my heart. But most
of all, I loved you enough to say NO when I knew you would hate me for it.Those
were the most difficult battles of all. I'm glad I won them, because in the end
you won, too. And someday when your children are old enough to understand the
logic that motivates parents, you will tell them.

Was your Mom mean? I know mine was. We had the meanest mother
in the whole world!While other kids ate candy for breakfast, we had to have
cereal, eggs, and toast. When others had a Pepsi and a Twinkie for lunch,we had
to eat sandwiches. And you can guess our mother fixed us a dinner that was
different from what other kids had, too.

Mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we were
convicts in a prison. She had to know who our friends were and what we were
doing with them. She insisted that if we said we would be gone for an
hour, we would be gone for an hour or less.

We were ashamed to admit it, but she had the nerve to break the Child Labor
Laws by making us work. We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, learn to cook,
vacuum the floor, do laundry, empty the trash and all sorts of cruel jobs.
I think she would lie awake at night thinking of more things for us to do. She
always insisted on us telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth. By the time we were teenagers, she could read our minds and had eyes in
the back of her head. Then, life was really tough! Mother wouldn't
let our friends just honk the horn when they drove up. They had to come up
to the door so she could meet them. While everyone else could date when they
were 12 or 13, we had to wait until we were 16.

Because of our mother we missed out on lots of things other kids
experienced. None of us have ever been caught shoplifting, vandalizing other's
property or ever arrested for any crime. It was all her fault. Now that we
have left home, we are all educated, honest adults. We are doing our best
to be mean parents just like Mom was. I think that is what's wrong with
the world today. It just doesn't have enough mean moms!

PASS THIS ON TO ALL THE MEAN MOTHERS YOU KNOW.(And Their Kids)

Sentences, and more...

Watching a child grow is like riding on a fast-moving train, trying to take in all the scenery, and store it in memory.

"baby want milk, mommy". "baby pee on a tree". "mommy make supper?".

Yeah, those are them. Baby sentences. Compliments of a strong-willed, smarter-than-your-average-chicken nearly three year old offspring.

I was looking in the mirror the other day and admiring the fact that I still look like me, when I hear this voice calling from the other end of the house, "mommy, mommy, MOMMY!!!" and I realized, eyes widening, "I'm a MOTHER!". I mean, don't get me wrong, I've known I was a mother since I had the never-to-be-humble opportunity to pee on a stick and see a little pink line appear but occasionally, it hits you. Like a wrinkle. I mean, you KNOW you're going to get them, but when they become visible (in the dark!) it becomes REAL.

Like the Velveteen Rabbit. Ever hear or read that story? Meryl Streep does a great job at narrating the story with some fabulous George Winston piano work. I highly recommend it. Anyway, being a mother is not something you become all at once. You evolve, somewhat, into the role. And being able to interpret 'baby sentences' is kinda like getting a diploma, or a masters degree.

I jokingly refer to myself as a household executive and child development specialist, but really, I'm a stay-at-home mom who likes to do just that. Stay at home. If I had to drop said child off at daycare from 7am to 6pm I think my interpretations skills would be hindered. I would not be 'bi-lingual' in the sense that I can speak adult AND baby.

Eddie has become quite the polite young man, saying his Please, Thank You, and Welcome's when prompted and sometimes not prompted. He can retrieve his shoes from his room, and pull his pants up and down now. Something he says that makes me laugh out loud is "oh my gosh" and "watch mommy, watch". He's a tree-climber from way back.

He can count to three, and knows his name, my name, daddy's name, and the name of the town we live in, and says, "hi there" and "bye bye" to people, when they come to visit, and then go.

Life is good. Toddlerhood is fun. Motherhood is ever-changing. New sentences abound as I type.

The every day present

Having a small child is like getting to open a present everyday.

Sometimes he's cranky, sometimes he is smiley, but he's always a present. A lot of days he doesn't get his hair brushed, or get out of his pajama's until ten o'clock, but everyday, I get to be with him. And he with me.

Potty Training?

The question mark is for the word training. Training would reflect discipline right? Ah. I wish I had some of that. What aisle is that found on?

So, I've found that potty training might be better when the weather is warmer than say, 20 degrees farenheit. See, my philosophy, or discipline, which are interchangeable for me, is that I should take his diaper off first thing in the morning, put a clean t-shirt on him, and let him run around naked, asking him every 20 minutes if he has to pee.

So far I've been able to get him to tell me once, that he had to pee, and he did! We've gone through a few costume changes lately (like 5 in 6 hours) but overall, I think he's catching on. By his third birthday I believe he'll be calling me from the bathroom asking me to wipe his bottom.

I think it will help when I don't have to warm up the seat of his "big boy toilet" in front of the woodstove in the morning before he can sit on it and pee. (we have had success with him imitating daddy peeing on a tree, but, see the 20 degree sentence.)

more to come as we make potty progress......

Toddler Tired

So, I wish I could transfer Eddie's energy to me. Or bottle it. I'd be a quadruplebilliontrillionaire. Is that a word? Anyway, I'm so tired, I can't stay on here and blog. Or vent which, really, let's be honest folks, is what this is. A vent spot. Good, bad and indifferent. Besides, hubby just brought me a cup of herbal tea, and the toddler is momentarily not hanging off of my leg!! Must. Go. Enjoy. The. Moment!

Chalk-it

That's Eddie-speak for Chalk. The big fat round sticks of chalk usually used for say....sketching a hop-scotch pattern on concrete except, lately, it's his toy of choice. He likes to write on the chairs, the dining room table, the back of my office chair, his dresser, and most annoying, the walls. He will ask repeatedly for it until I, said supposed parent, give in. Which is usually around 400 times. I just break for some wierd reason right around that number.

There's drywall (sheetrock? what's the difference) in our bedroom that we plan on tearing down, so we let him have free reign over the walls with the 'chalk-it'. He loves to draw 'ciwcowles' and gets giddy if you draw him a snowman, or better yet, a tractor. Yellow, white, pink, green and blue. Any color will do. You get used to it after a while. We won't tear it down until probably a month or so, that way he can do what no toddler before him has actually been given permission to do; DRAW ON THE WALLS.

Funny thing is, these sticks of chalk must be joined up with the lost socks of the world because I'm down to just three or four sticks from about....oh, TWENTY. They can't possibly get swept under a rug. I HAVE found them in the middle of the night on my way to the bathroom, and who ever thought that stepping on a piece of chalk could hurt so bad! I really don't know where they could be. Maybe I should check the dryer. That seems to be where half of his toddler sized socks dissappear from on a regular basis.

And don't get me started on crayons. WHY oh WHY must kids break crayons? It must be some small form of OCD in me that exists in a small closet of my brain that bursts out when a crayon is broken. And labels? "take off" he says to me. If I don't peel the crayon label off, he'll do it himself, and I find a little trail of 'violet blue' all around the house. Then, later, as I'm vacuuming, I suck up half sticks of Crayolas. A friend of mine said to me, "don't throw them away, save all the broken pieces of crayons, and then when you get a good lot of them, melt them down in to one big swirly-gig of colors". Thanks Kelly, FANTASTIC idea. No label to peel. Just his style.

I think though, for a while longer, (like, TEN YEARS) we'll keep the crayons in the highest cabinet and stick with the chalk. It wipes off the walls and most everything else SO much easier than crayons, and of course, keeps the OCD at bay. *must look into the obsessive desire to keep crayons intact and labeled.....

It's 5:39am. I've got but a couple hours left of chalk-free time.

On Naps

I guess it really doesn't matter if you tell them that in 20 years, they will so wish they could just lay down and take a nap. At 2 and nearly a half, he couldn't care less. He'd rather chase goats, squeeze puppies or throw stuff away that shouldn't be in the garbage. Like my checkbook.

Today I let him play in his room for a while before I made him (yes, I MADE him) lay down and hope he naps. He's drinking his milk now, and he looks rather sleepy, so we'll see if I can get at least two loads of laundry washed and hung out as it's going to be 80* here today. Yes, it's December 10th. I am pretty sure that I brought Southern California here with me. Severely hot summer, extreme drought, and now, 80* December days.

But it is good for a toddler, because it means more out door time. Which means less mess to clean up inside! This morning we tried to fly his kite, which wasn't terribly successful, but he had fun watching me run around trying to get it to 'float' on thin air, without much wind. Or, rather maybe the trouble was that he'd sortof annihilated the kite about two months ago, by removing tht tails and breaking the spine a bit by stomping on it, laughing gleefully at the noise it made.

So yeah, he's sleeping now, which you may have deduced at this point, because I'm on here, writing, and not doing laundry, as afore mentioned. Ah, well, he can help me carry the corner of the blanket to the clothes line when he gets up. He likes to help. Makes great grunting noises as though whatever whispy thing I have given him to carry is about 20 lbs. Quite funny.

The great thing about naps is they *usually* wake up in a better mood in which they went down. It's like morning all over again. So Hooray for Naps. Like a two-in-one deal. Sometimes I'd like to start the day over myself, and when this old farmhouse is not so behind, I do indulge in the luxuriousness of a good snuggle with the 2 and nearly a half year old boy. So cute when he says, "mommy snuggle". Worth the checkbook in the trash any day.

Time flies when you're chasing a toddler.

So it's been about a year and nearly a half since I've posted on this blog. Eddie will be 2 and a half on Dec. 21st, and currently, he's all I have to reference regarding the normal insaneness of toddler-hood. Don't get me wrong, I'm fully enjoying every temper tantrum and his ability to climb as high as I am tall, but boy-oh-boy is this the most trying time of parenthood so far! Thank goodness for bedtime!

He's teaching me new things everyday. Including how to ask for chalk or crayons so many times that the authority figure just gives in to have five minutes of quiet. The squeaky wheel really does get the grease!

My favorite thing of late is when it's getting close to bedtime, and on the rare occasion that he is actually sleepy anywhere close to that time, he says to me, with sippy cup of milk in hand, "mommy snuggle" and we do. He is so sweet, loving, and affectionate. He is the gift that keeps on giving. The one I get to open every morning. Tantrums or no, he's my favorite part of every day.

That you might know

Paul Harvey Writes:

We tried so hard to make things better for our kids that we made them worse. For my grandchildren, I'd like better. I'd really like for them to know about hand me down clothes and homemade ice cream and leftover meat loaf sandwiches. I really would.

I hope you learn humility by being humiliated, and that you learn honesty by being cheated. I hope you learn to make your own bed and mow the lawn and wash the car. And I really hope nobody gives you a brand new car when you are sixteen. It will be good if at least one time you can see puppies born and your old dog put to sleep. I hope you get a black eye fighting for something you believe in. I hope you have to share a bedroom with your younger brother/sister. And it's all right if you have to draw a line down the middle of the room, but when he wants to crawl under the covers with you because he's scared, I hope you let him.

When you want to see a movie and your little brother/sister wants to tagalong, I hope you'll let him/her. I hope you have to walk uphill to school with your friends and that you live in a town where you can do it safely. On rainy days when you have to catch a ride, I hope you don't ask your driver to drop you two blocks away so you won't be seen riding with someone as uncool as your Mom.

If you want a slingshot, I hope your Dad teaches you how to make one instead of buying one. I hope you learn to dig in the dirt and read books. When you learn to use computers, I hope you also learn to add and subtract in your head. I hope you get teased by your friends when you have your first crush on a boy\girl, and when you talk back to your mother that you learn what Ivory Soap tastes like. May you skin your knee climbing a mountain, burn your hand on a stove and stick your tongue on a frozen flagpole.

I don't care if you try a beer once, but I hope you don't like it. And if afriend offers you dope or a joint, I hope you realize he is not your friend. I sure hope you make time to sit on a porch with your Grandma/Grandpa and go fishing with your Uncle. May you feel sorrow at a funeral and joy during the holidays. I hope your mother punishes you when you throw a baseball through your neighbor's window and that she hugs you and kisses you at Hannukah/Christmas time when you give her a plaster mold of your hand. These things I wish for you - tough times and disappointment, hard work and happiness. To me, it's the only way to appreciate life. Written with a pen. Sealed with a kiss. I'm here for you. And if I die before you do, I'll go to heaven and wait for you.

Half a House

Half a house. Delivered to the property today. Tomorrow we'll take you down to it, and put your Johnny Jump Up in the doorway while we sweep it out, tidy up, and clean it out. Daddy's going to make a Tack Shed/Feed Bin/Workshop out of it so when we go down to hang out with 'Tate, we'll have a porch to sit on and a commode to use.

You won't have a clue now, but someday you'll know where we started. Someone once told me "Never forget where you came from". So this is where we came from. Half a house. In 20 years you may not appreciate it, but I'll bet that in 40 years, you will. We'll show you pictures of the Bus, where you spent the first part of your life, and then I'm sure we'll have pictures of you hanging out, crawling in, climbing on and generally making us chase you around the half house.

In less than a week, we'll have a WHOLE HOUSE. Delivered right next to the half house. And THAT my boy, will be OUR HOME. Where you will learn to crawl, climb on furniture, mark the walls, and pull the curtains down I'm sure. You'll bump your head, skin your knee and not want to go to bed in your own room.

We Survived

TO ALL THE KIDS WHO WERE BORN IN THE 1930's 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's !!



First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they
carried us.


They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.


Then after that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright colored
lead-based paints.


We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we
rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention, the risks we took
hitchhiking.


As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags.


Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was always a special treat.


We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.


We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE
actually died from this.


We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but
we weren't overweight because


WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!


We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back
when the streetlights came on.


No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K.


We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down
the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the
bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem...


We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no
99 channels on cable, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no cell
phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat
rooms..........WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!


We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no
lawsuits from these accidents.


We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.


We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays,
made up games with sticks and tennis balls and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just yelled for them!


Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't
had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!!


The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of They
actually sided with the law!


This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers
and inventors ever!


The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.


We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned HOW TO
DEAL WITH IT ALL!


You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as
kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated our lives for our own good.
and while you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave their parents were.


Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?!

Time Flies

Time Flies. They say. I know it has in my little world, with the clock ticking and tocking, it moves even when I don't. You my precious little baby boy are sleeping, indulging in your morning nap. And you don't even know you're indulging. Something you won't know until you're about 25 years older than you are now.

I know.

That time.

Will go quickly.

As quick as water down the drain, and smoke up the chimney. As quickly as $2.69 per gallon of gasoline goes through a 22.4 mpg car.

So my big little man, we will try to slow it down. We won't hurry. We will try not to scurry, and just take
one
step
at a
time.

Sometimes I want to wake you up from a nap, so I can see you smile, laugh and bat your hands at your toys, picking them up and gumming them. But I know you need your sleep, because, did you know you GROW in your sleep?

Yep. And your daddy weighed you yesterday. Twenty pounds. No wonder I can hardly pick you up when you're in the car seat. Sheesh. But you're not fat, not even a bit chubby as babies go. You're lean. Like your daddy.

So, back to

TIME.

It has wings. It flies. You'll see. One day you won't be able to reach the sink, then one day, you will. And you'll hardly have blinked your eyes.

I love you Eddie, I love you all the time in the world. All the hours, minutes and seconds. With wings.

Love, Mommy

I can't wait until....

It's already here folks. That time. You know, that evernagging "when", and "if". He's rubbing his eyes, he's grabbing things. Starting to notice when I leave the room. Voicing his displeasure at being put to bed. Yep. He's growing up. All six months are nearly over. I'd say since I've never been with a baby for the first six months of their life, that this is among the top two most precious times. The Here. And the Now.

He just woke up and rubbed his eyes. Oh My Gosh is that cute or what. Then he smiles at me. (melt) He watches me blowdry my hair, curl it, and then watches me silently while I put makeup on. He recognizes me both ways. Amazing. That's the word of the year. He's here and he's now. And they are both mine. (mine mine mine) I hope to never forget what it feels like to be watching over him all day and night. It's exhausting, fun, hilarious, tiring, giggly, silly, and sometimes exacerbating. And I love every second of every minute of every month of it.

I can't wait until now. I can't wait until then. I can't believe this is happening to me. (you can't know until you know) I don't want to wait anymore. I'll take each minute as they come. I promise to not 'wait' until you can talk to take you to the zoo. I promise not to 'wait' until you can walk to take you to an amusement park. I promise not to wait.

And you apparently can't wait any longer to get that diaper off your butt. Gotta go, can't wait.

So we won't wait.

I won't wait until I love you more. I couldn't possibly wait. One. More. Minute. I love you this much. Now.

Heart Beats

I think we take it for granted. Our Heart. As you lay sleeping my precious little baby boy, your heart is beating. And as of a few minutes ago, your heart has beat no less than 18, 390, 672 times. And you have taken over 3,831,390 breaths. May you continue to take many, many more.

I also think that we take our time with each other for granted. There are times when I'm trying to finish the dishes and you're paging me. Sigh. I get just the slightest bit irritable, thinking, "gosh, I just need to get something done". And to snap me out of it, I turn to you and say "I love you". Then you smile. Irritation gone. Dishes still in sink. But I'm not going to take you for granted.

My heart beats for you. When you were just a little little baby, resting you close to me regulated your heart beat. And your temperature. And having you so close to me bonds us together in more ways than we will *ever* understand. It is the invisible mark you have on me. You know my heart beat from anyone else. It is music to your ears. It is bursting full overflowing and infinitely capable of love for you. Beating out a song of love that any mother instantly knows even if she's never heard it before.

Rest easy my dear child. Your heart will keep beating. Your lungs will keep breathing. And I will keep loving.

Teeth

Two front teeth. Isn't that what we as children wanted for Christmas? And, was that the TOP two front teeth, or the BOTTOM two front teeth? If it is the bottom you wish for, you are in luck little big man. You have two teeth. Congratulations, you may now chew. On what, I don't know yet. Hopefully not me. But ah yes, you like to chew on everything. Links, spoons, knuckles, blankets. It's like having a puppy. But better!

I thought for sure you'd be crankier than an old wet hen but you've proven to me, yet again, that you're resilient, flexible, and that you are your Mommy's baby. Nothing keeps you from eating. Not even mouth pain.

And now you're wanting "real food". I see you. At the table, mouthing and mimicing us. Pushing your lips together, gums touching two "wittle" teeth. And when I put a spoon to your mouth you open WIDE like a little birdie. And OH MY GOSH the glass issue. Your arms flailing that serious look impending on your face, you look like you are getting ready for takeoff. Grabbing the glass with your hands that don't quite know what to do with themselves yet....and somehow you know that glass goes to mouth.

Christmas is right around the corner. And so are your two front teeth. I'm lucky enough to catch glimpses of them all day long, because you smile a LOT.

I take you everywhere

I swear, I take you everywhere. Not a place I won't go with you. We go to the post office, the bank, the grocery store, the mall, car dealerships, the chiropractor, the doctor, the mom's group, fancy and not so fancy restaurants. To grandma's, to great-grandma's, to uncle Doug and aunt Elva's, to the movies, let's see....where else? We'll probably take you to the park, the zoo, Disneyland, and lots of other fun and maybe some not so fun places too.

You are becoming so much more aware of where you are now too. That is so much fun - your eyes drink it in, sipping every last bit into your head. You aren't scared at all. And if you ever are, just remember I'll be right there to hold you and comfort you.

I'll take you everywhere with me. I love you.