Today was your last day of being two.

(birth)

We went to the zoo, and you helped me push the stroller around.

(Halloween - 5 months)

We rode the train.

(crawling, first vehicle obsession)

You ran around with your friend and chased the geese.

(sick day)

You told me about nine times that tomorrow you wanted “chockat cake . . . with FWOSTING! And Thomas!”

(your sense of humor)

You had a tantrum about eating at the dinner table. I explained that we eat at tables.

(playing in the pool at Mimi and Poppy’s)

You pointed out that the train table is also a table, and that it also has two little chairs . . .

(your first steps)

Dinner was at the train table tonight.

(walking on your own)

As I put you to bed you told me you loved me “so much.”

(my favorite picture of you)

I told you I loved you so much too.

(Christmas - 19 months)

I told you that you were my big boy. You said Yes.

(second birthday)

And I asked you how you got so big, how it had happened so fast.

(Halloween - train engineer, of course)

You wanted to sleep with your “favorite cars: owange O twuck, bwue wace car, and big wed wace car,” as you have every night for the past three weeks. You always list them for me, despite the fact that I have known which are you favorites this whole time.

(first day of school)

I told you that “tomorrow when you wake up, you’ll be three.” How did this happen?

(last week at the carnival)

You fell asleep, snoring and exhausted from your last day as a two year old, with my hand rubbing your head, your arm slung over your eyes, and telling me that you really like cake . . . and pudding too.

Labels: Birthdays, Pictures, The Big One

Ugh, you guys, moving suuuucks. I always forget how bad it is. I hate packing and taking care of all the stuff that goes along with a move, and I get overwhelmed really early on and know that it is something I loathe. But somehow it always ends up being worse than I expect or remember. See that house down below? I hate that house! I want to live in this lame apartment under my especially lame neighbors forever, just so long as I don’t have to pack one more single thing. Ok, I don’t hate it. I’m just ready to be in it.

It was around this time two years ago that we were doing exactly the same thing as we prepared to leave Chicago. It was hard packing with a mobile baby - he got into everything imaginable. A few of you may remember Sam eating the zipper. I thought we’d learned our lesson from that incident but nooooooo. Today Hubby and I were dealing with files and paper shredding, and when I went over to check on Robby he had that exact same expression on his face, causing me to open his mouth and sweep out a tiny piece of plastic that was working its way toward the back of his throat. It was something that had no business being on the floor to begin with ( I think it was a broken piece from the cord to our blinds or something), but of course the whole apartment is covered in packing material and crap right now so everything just kind of blends together. Packing with one baby and one toddler is, well, it’s ridiculous. And now I’ll stop complaining because it will all be over in a week.

And on a really, REALLY good note, I’m going to be writing for Mama Speaks, which I am so happy about. Mama Speaks is an awesome review blog that showcases mom-designed products, eco-friendly tips and merchandise, lesser known charity organizations, and generally very cool stuff for moms. It’s a great place to check out for new products and to get a mom’s opinion on whether or not something is a good purchase for you and your family. I’m sure I’ll be biting my nails when it’s time for my first reviews, but I’m totally excited.

Labels: House, The Little One

****Edited below****

Nothing quite so disconcerting as handing over pretty much ALL of your money in one tidy cashiers check, is there? We closed on the house. All went well. I think my stomach is finally settling down. And, well, I guess we’re home owners now. So I suppose one of us had better get around to mowing that unattended lawn . . . and moving. That would be good too. We move a week from Saturday because we wanted to have work done to it before we brought the kids in. Now I wish we could just get it over with.

You know, this was a very different post when I put it up two hours ago, but it felt wrong (and I apologize for any confusion for the few of you that may have seen it in its original form).  It was sort of a downer, which is not indicative of how my husband and I feel about the purchase of our new home - it felt dishonest and forced.   And most of all, it told details of a story that is not mine to tell, so I’m taking a lot of it out.

What I really want to say is this:

That’s our house.  Those trees? Those are our trees.  That’s where my family is going to live and play and settle.  And we’re so excited about it we can’t stand it.  We can’t wait to be there and wake up for the first time in our new home.

Labels: Bodily functions, House, Pictures

I awoke to rain and a toddler who refused to go to school. I knew the latter was crucial since said toddler would not be getting out of the house due to the former, so I started the long process of getting a writhing child out the door in a timely fashion. He’s usually very excited to go to school, so this was a little weird to me. He was adamant that he was not down with school today, not cool with walking to the car, and generally just “vewy angwy!”

And you know me - I started to wonder what awful thing had happened at school that made him so upset about going. Had a classmate been mean to him and the teacher didn’t help? Had he gotten into trouble and no one told me? Had he gotten hurt?

So as we drove there I continued to ask him why he didn’t want to go. I started talking about how they would get to go to the “big room” to play instruments since it was raining outside, and then he yelled, “No! I NOT want to pway Duckduckgoose!”

“Oh, did you play Duck-Duck-Goose at school?”

“Yes. It raining and I NOT want to pway.” Aha, so on rainy days they not only go to the big room for instruments, but also for games. That was a relief.

But then, about four seconds later, I started up again - Wait, why does he hate Duck-Duck-Goose so much? Does nobody pick him as the goose? Is he always the first one “out”? Do they put him in “the pot?” Oh God, they shame him and make him sit in the pot so that all the other kids can sit around him in the circle and stare at him because he was out first. He’s already having sport-related school anxiety! He’s going to hate gym. He’s going to have stomach aches on Field Day. He’s going to be like my brother and run himself into a wall to break his arm so that he can get out of P.E. because a shattered ulna feels better than the shame of being a non-athlete . . .

“You put your hands on the heads and I NOT want them to touch my head.”

“What?”

“I NOT WANT THEM TO TOUCH MY HEAD!”

“You mean you don’t like Duck-Duck-Goose because they touch your head? It’s not because of the part where you have to run around the circle and get chased and sit in the pot if you are out?”

“No, that a wittle fun. Running part is fun. I just not want them to touch my head.”

” . . . Ohhhhhh.”

When I picked him up two hours later I looked in the window to see Sam happily sitting in a circle with his hand stuck out so that the kid who was the ducker could walk by and tap him high five style - “Gooooooose!” - and Sam running and laughing around and around the whole room as the teachers tried to direct the two boys to at least head in the general direction of the circle, which had really spread out into something more like a line. There was no “out,” no “pot,” and absolutely no shame.

Labels: Learn More Every Day, Tales, Talking, The Big One

You know what is amazing?  When Sam wakes up in the night and is afraid or confused, he says, “Mommy.”  I am the first thing that comes to his mind.  “Mommy, I need you.”  When he gets hurt, “I need Mommy to kiss it.”  When he doesn’t feel well, “I need Mommy to chill me out.”

And what amazes me about this is that I am the mommy.  Me.  Someone (two people, actually) needs me so much that when they awake in the dark I am the person that can make it all better.  I’m the mommy.

I’ve submitted the above photo to the 5 Minutes For Mom photo contest.

Labels: Bloggy Stuff - Memes/Links/Business, Mommyhood, Pictures

Sam and I have been playing a lot of Candyland lately.  He caught on remarkably fast, seeing as it’s his very first board game and all.  But after a while I started to notice something a little…odd.

Here are some examples of some of the cards I was allowed to draw during our recent game.

You can assume they pretty much all looked like this.

Here are some of the cards Sam “happened” to draw.

Again, you can assume they pretty much all looked like this.

In case you can’t tell, this is a stack of all of the “special cards,” all of which were “his.”

And here’s the “pile” we were drawing from, where he directed each of us as to which card we could pick up.

And here is the face Sam makes when he knows he’s being “naughty.”

Labels: Pictures, The Big One, Toys

The other day, in a moment of awesome maturity, I called my husband and held up the phone so that he could hear the sound of both children screaming for several minutes. They were sort of trying to outdo each other…well, Sam was trying to outdo Robby, and Robby didn’t like it. Anyway, I’d been listening to both of them scream and cry with absolutely nothing I could do about for about ten minutes. Finally I just started laughing at the ridiculousness of it and called him, you know, just cuz. We couldn’t even hear each other.

Sam has been sick this past week (again!), and it makes him very clingy(understandably so). When he gets like this he sometimes just wants me to hold him and let him sit on my lap. Somehow, this act has acquired its own name because he asks to do it when he’s upset and needs to calm down. Now, when he wants me to pick him up and put him in my lap he walks around saying, “I need Mommy to chill me out.”

Chillin’

Labels: Mommyhood, Pictures, Talking, The Big One