I don’t really have much to say. Well, that’s not true. I actually have a lot to say, but I’m really busy. I, stupidly I might add, decided to throw both boys their birthday party this weekend. Together. At the same time. Oy. So, yeah: Busy. Because I love lists, here is what’s been going on. In list form.

• The boys and I headed to the park to meet up with a friend and her young son yesterday. As we were playing around, climbing all over, and just generally having fun, the Older One stopped and pointed to two lizards (alright, so Google told me in Florida they are called anoles). He says, “Awwwww, look! It’s a mommy lizard and her baby!” My friend and I look over to find two lizards having hot and heavy lizard sex. Awesome. Kids are so cute. That made my day. Also? My first thought was This is perfect blog fodder! Which were also my first words because, day-um, I’m not teaching my son a lesson about The Birds and The Bees at the park.
• Seeing as how tonight is the first night of Mommy Hiding in the Closet for Two Months Summer Break, my husband decided he wanted to let the Older One stay up late. I think his exact words were, “This kids never wants to go to sleep and never acts tired. Let’s see how late he can go.” To which I just shook my head and told him he was to assume full responsibility for this Terrible Idea Science Experiment. By the time 10pm rolled around, the Older One was heard saying, “Why do you have to hug me? This isn’t fair! You ALWAYS do this!” WHILST CRYING/WHINING. I decided to step in and march his butt straight to bed. Sure, he may not act sleepy, but it comes out in melt-downs, temper tantrums, and tears. To be upset OVER A HUG? Well that means he’s tired. So! The Older One does indeed have a Use By time stamp and it is around 10pm. No need to repeat this experience anytime soon!
• While in the driveway earlier this evening, Older One grabs my iPhone to start messing with some app or another. I have the iFart app and he’s obsessed. Sadly, the neighbors walked by right as he loaded up the app and hit Go. And then proceeded to proclaim loudly, “Eww! MOM! Say excuse me!” The neighbors took a good, long look. Again: Kids are awesome!
• Ugh. There was totally something else, but I can’t remember what it was. Dammit. My brain is so messed up. This is clearly a message to the younger generation: Don’t do drugs. Because that egg in the frying pan? TOTALLY MY BRAIN. Also? I’m totally not editing this. Because I can and because I’m too damn lazy. and also because I like to live dangerously. An errant comma? A rogue hyphen? SO ILLICIT.

My Beloved First-Born,
It is quite simply ridiculous that you are no longer a baby or a toddler, but a boy. It is both traumatic and absolutely wonderful to have both you and your brother’s birthdays in the same month. Regardless of whether or not I want you to, you are (both) growing up. Let me tell you a little bit about what you have done and who you have become this year.

Yes, it is true! You are now riding a full-on, two-wheeled, no training wheels bike. It took you an hour to learn and a day to master and there were no falls and barely any bruises. Although, there was still whining. And tears. Let’s work on that this year, shall we?

In just over a year, you’ve gained a brother. Your world was shaken, turned topsy-turvy, but you’ve handled it with the grace and wisdom of someone ten times your age. You love your brother. You play with him, you teach him, you laugh with him. It’s beautiful to watch you two develop a relationship. This isn’t to say that when your brother wants the toy you are playing with or copies every little thing you do it doesn’t drive you mad, but for the most part you’re cool with it. The other day I left you two alone while I went to change the wash to the dryer. Upon my return, your brother had velcro Nerf Darts stuck all over the back of his diaper. I’m assuming this is how you enact revenge for playing with your space rocket: by shooting him in the butt with your Nerf Darts. Let’s just always keep it to spongey, velcro-tipped, soft projectiles, please. I don’t need the kind of hazing your Dad and his brother used to perform on each other with their beebee guns.

Which leads us to this picture. While we were visiting your Paw-Paw out on the Ranch, you learned how to shoot a beebee gun. Your mama had grand designs never to introduce guns into your life. I’m much more of an anti-gun, peace person, but I’ve come to believe that shooting things are in Little Boy DNA. Anything can be made into a weapon and while I don’t condone pretending to shoot real people, you’re all about blowing up your Lego created towns. Oy. I think I’m getting heartburn.

You’ve tried many different sports and activities this past year.
Roller-Blade Hockey:

Not so much a fan, but you were pretty amazing. You have the balance of a gymnast (you get it from me) and are a quick learner (also: ME). Alas, you did not possess the patience to stick with it (your father). Maybe someday.
Tennis:

You’re good. You’re damn good. And! You like it, which, BONUS. As much as I’d like to, I can’t take credit for this. Your father is the tennis player in this family. I don’t do well when balls are hurtling towards me at a rapid speed.
Soccer:

You weren’t exactly a fan at first. Probably because you come from a fairly lazy stock. Your mama would much rather the object come to her than to run after it. But after a few false starts and some picking the flowers in the goal box, you’ve caught on to the whole Ball In THEIR Goal aspect of the game and your killer instinct (Again, ME) is kicking in. (See also: Your mama is a woman of many contradictions. Get used to this and expect it to show up somewhere in your life.)

Yoga, golf, karate, and the violin are some of the other things you have tried. You and I go to yoga once a week and you’re still trying to figure it out. Like me, you are cripplingly shy and haven’t yet learned the Art of Doing It Anyway. I know you enjoy yoga because I watch your face. It lights up as the other children are talking, laughing, and posing. My hope for you is that you conquer your apprehension (self-consciousness? I’m not really sure where it comes from) and can learn to force yourself to participate anyway. I know how much joy you would find in that.

Your favorite things are all wheel and horse-power related. As in, you love cars. You have no less than 496,265 Hot Wheels cars and a whole bunch of remote control vehicles. Lucky boy that you are, your grandparents also gave you this for Christmas two years ago:

Cue mama’s heart attack. You’ve sat through all of our required lessons on safety and have learned to drive like a pro. You and your father zip around the neighborhood (because, of course, he has one too) and I can barely watch for the panic this induces in me. My baby! Driving! Something about this seems totally wrong, but I know it’s creating memories that will last you a lifetime.

This family has the kind of sense of humor that others may find, well, offensive. We are constantly razing each other and making jokes at each other’s expense. Needless to say, one needs guts to survive here. This year your sense of humor has developed and it would be no lie to say that you fit right in. You still enjoy all of the young boy’s jokes about farts and poop and butts, but you’ve developed a keen comedic timing and perfect sense of irony and dry wit. It is with pride (and some serious embarrassment) that I tell you about the joke you played on me the other morning at the school drop-off. I do not get along, nor even like very much, the principal of your lower school. She is a fake, phony bitch and, sadly, you know about the way I feel about her. (This was accidental. The last thing I want is for you to have opinions on things based on my experiences. I’d rather you learn for yourself and work out your own belief. Regardless, I forgot: Little pitchers have big ears.) This woman happened to be helping you out of the car on this particular morning and, as we were exchanging pleasantries and goodbyes, you looked at me and said, “Now remember, Mama, don’t cancel my birthday party!” This was an empty threat I had given the night before when you wouldn’t go to bed. The old bag principal looked at me, shocked that I would even suggest such a thing and said, “I’m sure your mom would never do that.” To which you replied, “Of course she would! We are talking about the same woman, right?” For about a split second, I was speechless. Does he really think I’m that mean of a mama? That is, until you looked me dead in the eye, winked, and then bust up laughing. Thanks, dude. You really know how to make me feel special.

You’re old enough now that holidays are massively fun. This year was the first year that we really went trick-or-treating and you were all about the candy. By the way, your homemade Darth Vader costume? It totally rocked and you were the Most Awesome Darth Vader Ever. We took a hayride through the back part of town and stopped at all the houses along the way. You quickly made friends with all the other young kids in our trailer and raced to each house to grab as much sugar-laden crap as would fit in your small hands. Christmas was also a blast. We left cookies for Santa and you crafted a glorious letter to him, thanking him for his journey and your presents. Such a big heart you have, my smiley, Bug Boy. I always say, “You can’t teach a child to have a kind heart.” You have the kindest heart of any five six year old I have met this far.

Last week I decided that you need to start falling asleep in your own room, without your dad sitting at the foot of your bed. This has been an extremely difficult transition– for both of us. When you were just a baby, I left you to cry in your crib. I thought I was teaching you how to self-soothe and how to learn to fall asleep. I now realize this taught you nothing because I’m starting back at Square One. Only now, instead of crying you yell out to me to tell me how sad you are. I’m sad too, buddy. One night after an hour of you calling out for more water, a trip to the bathroom, a snack, you asked me if you could look at pictures of your family if you couldn’t fall asleep. This made me all teary because I realized that you just wanted to look at the faces of the people who give you comfort. We also modified the transition. I now sit in the hallway, just where you can see me, and wait for you to drift into the Land of Nod. It works better because you know I am there and, sweetheart, I will always be there. I want you to learn your own way in the world, to learn to navigate fear and loneliness, but I will always provide you safe harbor if a storm passes your way.

You started out FIVE needing flotation devices to help you swim and throughout the year, have learned to dive, to swim laps, and to do the breast stroke. What will this year bring? I look forward to finding out with you. So, Giggle Boy, it is with a bittersweet sigh that I bid farewell to Five. I welcome Six and all your new accomplishments with joy, but I will always remember that this was the year you became All Grown Up. You don’t quite need me in the same way that you used to, but in strange and news ways. Forgive me if I stumble, as we already know I’m not perfect. I’m learning, just like you, and I’m trying to be a better mother every day. It is beautiful to watch you grow, learn, become.

I love you,
Mama

Trying to figure out where the Boy Scouts fall in order, the Older One said this yesterday, “Mama, is it Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, Eagle Scouts, Adult Scouts?”

Sure. It’s something like that, Bugs.

Feeling cooped up in the house on a bright, beautiful, warm, Florida day (which pretty much sums up EVERY day in South Florida), the boys and I decided to head to a park near our development. I try to do this several times a week, if for no other reason than I like to be consistent. I’m also trying to make Friends with Kids because it would be nice to have play dates once in a while, but also to have Adult Conversation. Have I mentioned I’m really shy and I have a really hard time making friends? Turns out, people don’t ever get to know you if you don’t open your mouth and talk once in a while. Yeah! I know! I didn’t know either! Where was I? Oh yes, The Park!

We took lots of pictures, which wasn’t any fun at all because “Wait! Stop! I know you’re having fun, but don’t move so I can take a picture!” is surely annoying. All that stopping and focusing and setting up a shot resulted in a lot of these types of pictures:

There was still much fun to be had! Lots of swinging!

Much sand was dug!

The sand was a whole new experience for the baby. He didn’t eat any of it luckily.

There was lots of sliding down slides and jumping from high places!

There was also some relaxing, which was nice.

There was lots of moving from one place to another.

We had a pretty good time. Didn’t we, Baby One?

I think he agrees.

My Snuggly Second Son,

All too soon you will grow up and come to realize that your letters are much fewer and further between than I ever intended them to be. What you may one day come to find out, should you have more than one child of your own, is that you will be far busier than you ever expected to be. At the end of the night, you may wish to do nothing more than curl up with your significant other and relax because you’ve just played 50 rounds of Cops and Robbers with your older son and fed, bathed, and pajama’d the baby. Oh wait! Maybe that’s just your mother. Or perhaps you will have a partner that might share the load of this work and you won’t feel quite as dog tired as I do now. Either way, you’ll come to find out that you don’t have as much time to record all the wonderful things your children do as you once thought you would. At least, I hope that for you. I hope you will be able to experience the heart-breaking beauty of your child’s eyes. The soul-tickling joy of your baby’s laughter. One day may you be in the presence of a parent-child love and you will finally understand. You will understand that writing these letters is only a glimpse into just how much I love you- that I could never fully transcribe the kind of feeling this is. But, again, I’ll always try. . .

January 20th, 2009 was the day that you finally crawled. After weeks of thinking about it and days of attempting to, but falling on your tummy, you actually made it across your bedroom floor. You were determined to reach my glasses, if only to put them in your mouth. You hollered the whole way, wanting me to pick you up, but I could see the immense satisfaction you held when you made it to the other side. I realized, as I watched you locomote across the floor, that this is what love is: Watching you do something difficult, something I could easily help you get or gain, but knowing how proud of yourself you would be should you do it yourself. I don’t think I’ll ever claim to know or understand exactly what love is, but I know this must be some small part of it.

These last few months have been about watching you discover. Your influence over objects, your power in the world, your feet, your brother. You have begun to notice it all and now, it seems, you want to be a part of it. There is a butterfly that hangs above your changing table. Every day you pull on its wings. Never fails to amuse you. During dinner time, you have found that with enough oomph you can make your sippy cup fly through the air. This cracks you up. Call my name, “Mama,” and you know that you are instantly picked up. Watch your brother and you are sure that you will be laughing in short order. It has been a great pleasure to watch you become an active member of your family.

You were the cutest damn dinosaur Halloween has ever seen this past Candy-Hoarding Season. We went for a huge hay ride all throughout the horsey part of town, stopping at almost every house for candy. There was a lot of people and even more kids, but you stayed quiet and nursed contentedly in the back of the trailer for most of the ride. Towards the end, you had decided that you had enough and we packed up your sugar-shocked brother and headed home to count all of his loot.

The rest of the Holidays passed in a most relaxing manor, so rare for holidays with our family. You weren’t quite yet up to the task of opening presents, but you were most definitely dazzled by the lights and noise of several of the toys you had gotten. Like your brother, your grandparents definitely over-indulged you in masses of toys. A ball-tivity center, several music-playing, crib toys, small race cars in fun, bright colors, and lots of stuffed animals were just parts of your stash. For the last few weeks, it has been easy to distract you with one of your favorite toys: a baby basketball net. It cheers you on when you make a basket and you are particularly enchanted with the figure of a little baby on the backboard. I think you like him the best.

You may or may not be interested to know that you’ve outgrown your entire stash of cloth diapers! So many nights I worried my nails to nubs, concerned that you weren’t getting enough milk. Because of a breast reduction when I was 19, we had a rocky start to our nursing relationship. We have visited many lactation consultants and many doctors, but we’ve finally found the right combination of Domperidone and solid foods to make it work. And it really does work because it’s the only thing that’s guaranteed to calm a crying spell or put you to sleep. In fact, it’s the only thing that puts you to sleep and it’s what you do all. night. long. It’s a good thing I’m a pretty heavy sleeper. It brings me immense amounts of joy and relief to be able to bite your chunky thighs and breathe in the baby scent trapped in your neck rolls.

This is the new face you like to make. Along with it, you say, “Ohhh.” Just like you know exactly what I’m talking about. Even if you don’t, and I suspect you do not. But! It’s really cute and it makes me feel like you are paying attention to everything I say.

Yesterday, as my mom leaned in to give your a kiss hello, you made a smacking sound with you lips. “Mmmwah!” It sounded just like you were giving her a kiss back and until someone proves otherwise, I will believe that is exactly what you are doing. You were quite proud of the new noise you could make and all of the excitement that followed when you did it, and you spent much of last night Mmmwahing. I truly believe that you can feel all the love and good feelings that your family has when we’re around you. I also believe that you are giving it back to us because you know how good it feels. Here’s a secret: Your grandfather, Cookie, turns into a total mush-head around you.

Your father has been in the hospital for the month of January to help himself become a better father. This means that your grandparents (Cookie and Granny) have been coming over in the evenings to help out with dinner and bath time. The bath has just become an extension of the play room. The entire family piles in the bathroom to watch you and your brother play in the tub. Between fits of giggles, I manage to clean your near-bald head and scrub your delicious neck rolls. The Bug’s bath toys are a joyful diversion while I manage to clean up your brother. It’s a special time and I can see how much love you have for each other. So consumed, you brother is, with making you laugh.

If there was one person who might possibly be more proud of your accomplishments than I am, it would be your brother. He positively rejoices when you achieve anything new. Crawling? He was your cheerleader every step of the way. He’s currently showing you how standing up and walking is done so that you’ll be shortly ready to enter a marathon. You should be aware that I am not ready for you to walk just yet. I’ve only just barely gotten over the fact that my! baby! is! crawling!

See? He completely adores you. As does your mama.
I love you, sweet boy.
Mama
xx