Archive for the ‘Letters’ Category

newsletter: month fifty-six.

Tuesday, December 6th, 2011

Drew,

In the midst of yogurt spills and dinosaur fights, we ended up in a huge fuss this morning. I really don’t know how we can start our day with red cheeks and giggling in the bed and end up exasperated within an hour.

We butt heads sometimes. I don’t know if it’s because you are four or because you are just like your Mommy. And Daddy. But no matter, we still know how to curl up on the couch and give forgiving kisses.

When I was a little girl, your Poppy taught me to always apologize when you’re wrong. Swallow your pride, wipe your tears, and say you’re sorry. And I think you and I are getting the hang of that as well.

I love you. And I love how I learn more about myself just by walking beside you.

sly boy

I’ll always say I’m sorry when I overwhelm you. And I’ll try my best to not melt in the floor when you stammer an apology through tears.

We’re in this together, kiddo.

P.S. Those dinosaurs were the best money I’ve ever spent. I think we’ll be playing with them even when you’re in college.

23 months old.

Sunday, March 8th, 2009

Dear Drew,

You turned twenty-three months old two days ago. And yet this changing of another month was no mere formality (not that it ever is, actually). You have changed in tangible, real, and measurable ways that bring delight in our home and at other times, tears, while watching you sleep.

Everyone told me that you’d grow up too quickly. I know that time really does feel as though it’s zooming by but I had no idea how fast you’d leave the cuddly baby stage. I miss feeling you snuggle against my neck after eating and knowing that just walking you around while holding you in my arms could loll you to sleep.

And when you sprawl in your bed at night, your long legs make you look less like a toddler and more like a young boy. But your round cheeks, wild hair, giggles, silly faces, and sweet hugs are all pieces of your childhood that I simply cannot part with yet.

pout

You’ve learned to blow kisses but still get frustrated with blowing into the harmonica. You’ve fallen in love with broccoli but can’t stand the way rice feels in your mouth. And you love to gather sticks on the lawn but hate getting dirt on your hands.

Suddenly and surprisingly, you are learning letters! You recognize A, E, K, M, O, Q, and W whenever you see them in a book, on a shirt, or on Sesame Street. Your grand-mommy gave us a placemat with letters that she used with your uncles and aunt and you LOVE to look at it before your nap. We try counting every day, with the random everydayness of life. How many bowls am I holding? How many pairs of underwear am I folding? How many fingers have chocolate stains? You know how to count up to five but you LOVE the number five so much that you sometimes just shout FIVE FIVE FIVE.

posing

You absolutely floored me the other afternoon. You were running in a circle, which you do twice a day, like clockwork. It’s a very involved process in which you run around for what seems like hours and recite everything you see in the room.

But this time, instead of narrating the room, you said “LOVES YOU, BEAR IS WHITE, DAFF’DL IS YELLOW, APPLE IS RED.” Over and over.

You were reciting the children’s book we’ve been reading over and over, That’s How Much God Loves You! The story says “He loves you as much as a polar bear is white and a daffodil is yellow and an apple is red.”

I’m still amazed that you remembered the book well enough to shout it out randomly.

relaxinating

One overwhelming piece of our story right now is learning how to deal with your anger. I don’t have the heart to share all of the drama right now but hopefully I’ll feel like writing about it soon. The short story is that your Daddy and I fell in love with attachment parenting even before you were born. But we never really kept at it.

You have moments of real frustration. Which you’ve inherited from me. And sometimes, it’s just normal testing-your-boundaries cuteness. For instance, your daddy asked for you to give him one of your toys the other evening. You stood there, studying him.

And then said, “gimme car. NO!” As though you couldn’t remember exactly how to word it all.

With some of your more overwhelming bouts of anger, we’ve reverted into spanking mode. But it has not worked at all and has just made me feel awful. In fact, the only times I’ve spanked you have been when I have been frustrated myself. I’ve felt awful over it and have pulled Dr. Sears’ book on discipline down so many times and I’m slowly working my way through it.

I know many mommy’s and daddy’s differ on whether spanking is right or wrong, needed or not, but I’m at a place right now where I can firmly say that I don’t believe spanking is necessary at all. It feels very wrong for me.

You respond beautifully to slow, gentle parenting. It takes a lot more patience on my part but oh, it feels so right. So, we’re taking this one step at a time while we try to show you the best way of dealing with frustrating moments and everyday life.

Because we ALL have them. And we all have to learn how to deal with them.

I will let you in on a little secret. Sometimes chocolate helps. But I’m not going to tell you that for a little while longer.

watching the cars zoooom

My sweet drewster, I love you so much.

For so long I thought that becoming a mommy would be all about you and how wonderful it would be to be a family of three and not just two. But being your mommy has been hard work. Not because of anything you’ve done at all but because I’ve learned so much about myself and what is inside my own heart.

I’m absolutely blessed that God’s given you to us for this journey and that He lets us parent even though we are crazy and not always sure of what we are doing.

You are growing and changing and before I know it, you’ll be all angles and legs and catching bugs, doggies, and then the love of someone other than me.

Please know that I’m trying very hard to enjoy these wiggly days with you. I don’t always have a camera to catch your beautiful smile and I don’t always have the mind or memory to write a blog post to tell of your doings. But I’m keeping it all bundled inside and one day, you can curl up beside me and we’ll have long talks about these days of discovery.

Love, Mommy

22 months old.

Monday, February 16th, 2009

Drew,

I’m rather late in writing this newsletter this month. But I’ve finally curled up in the green chair and decided to write before I forget all the wonderfulness that you’ve experienced this month.

Right after the first of the year, you figured out how to open your bedroom door. Your daddy and I were lying on the bed one evening, relaxing and talking about how our day had went, and you were supposed to be quietly reading in your room. All of the sudden, we heard a door open and you walked into the hallway and said, “HI MOMMY. HI DADDY.”

It was pretty cute but it’s obviously become a bit more difficult to keep you in one place when you really, really want to go stare at the bathtub and contemplate hopping inside.

We took a trip to Baltimore this month to see some of our family and celebrate Grandpa’s birthday and you got to meet Uncle Bob and Aunt Glenna. Uncle Bob has a delicious camera and is a professional photographer and you sweetly posed for him often.

spinning the star

You’ve also started to sing. Your favorite songs are Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, Jesus Loves Me, and sometimes…Twinkle Jesus. Which I actually tried to sing once because how can a mommy refuse a sweet boy who is asking in all sincerity for you to please sing Twinkle Jesus!?

When it’s time to head to bed at night, there is a long list of things that must occur. You say night night to all of the items you can see (the couch, chair, wall, moon, window, iPod, etc.) and sometimes include the helicopter that goes over our house occasionally.

You have already figured out your colors, surprisingly. And you get them right about 95% of the time. When you narrate during the day, which is apparently what your daddy did when he was a little boy (NERD ALERT), you say “hi blue truck, there sa geen ball, bye bye lellow hat.”

We often see you pretending while you play. You have a bundle of balls to play with and when you are particularly giggly, you’ll grab a handful and run in the corner and say “how many balls? FOUR balls.”

We’ve been stuck inside most days during this month, and it became obvious that it wasn’t helping mommy very much so we snuck in a trip to the park during the day when daddy came home for lunch. It was a rare day when it reached 60, and was a bit warmer. You and I both loved being outdoors and you finally got in the toddler swing at the park without throwing a giant fit.

This month also marks the first time you’ve thrown up. 🙁 I’m not sure you’ll care to know that as you grow up, but hey, why not. You’ve been an exceptionally healthy kid – no ear infections and just the occasional cold. I’m not sure if you had a stomach bug or just played too hard after eating dinner. Either way, you were over it soon and back to normal.

You’ve also taken to rocking all of your animals in your arms and burping them. I pretended with your stuffed bear one afternoon and you watched, wide-eyed. And sure enough, it’s become something you do every single day.

One of the odd and terribly hilarious games you’ve been playing lately is Spin the Maggot. Mom, before you fall over in horror, please keep reading. 😉

We have a magnet on the fridge that has a woven string that dangles below it. Drew has discovered that he can pull it off the fridge and dash away while spinning the magnet as hard as he can. With glee. Of course. And all the while, he shouts “SPIN THE MAGGOT SPIN THE MAGGOT.”

The first time we heard him say that, we slowly looked at each other and said, “did he just say what I think he said?”

You’ve also started doing a Smiley Face and a Silly Face and a Frownie Face. I first implemented this Amazing and Wonderful Parenting Technique one afternoon when you were stomping around with the biggest frown on your face. I was making macaroni and cheese and you wanted some right now thank you very much and I was saying, you have to wait, please. You frowned so hard I thought your chin was going to fall off so I said, “I see your frownie face. Now can you please let me see your smiley face?”

You absolutely understood what that meant and proceeded to grin so wide that you looked like the Joker. It’s become our secret psychological move whenever you get out of sorts.

Here’s a good example of how funny it is:

The Happy Face

happy face

The Fussy Face

fussy face

The Silly Face

silly face

The last thing I’ll mention is that you’ve really made your daddy and I be more social this month. Whenever we go to the grocery store or shopping, you say HI to everyone you see – in a VERY loud voice and with big blue eyes and it always shocks folks and then we have to stop and talk, etc.

Your daddy and I are both introverts when it comes to strangers and so it’s just been really odd and yet humorous. We were at Barnes & Noble yesterday afternoon, looking for The Great Divorce, when we rounded a corner and you saw a father and son walking along. You swelled your chest up and shouted loudly, “HI! HI! HI!” I just knew you were going to add “PEOPLE!” to it and then once again, we’d look like parents who never get out of the house at all.

Hmm. Moving on.

The father of the little boy just guffawed and then leaned down to his son and said “that little boy just greeted you!” I think the little boy just thought Drew was a freak for being so friendly but it’s really quite hysterical that you are SO happy to see other people.

I’m not sure if it is because I started teaching you early on to say hi to the moon, the door, the sunshine, the cars, the flowers, and then you just decided to include EVERY SINGLE PERSON IN THE WORLD as well.

No matter. There isn’t anything wrong with being friendly. I just need to somehow convince you that some strangers need the Fussy Face instead of “OH HI I LOVE YOU.”

I love you very, very much and look forward to watching how you change and grow this next month.

Love, Mommy

21 months old.

Tuesday, January 6th, 2009

My sweet Drew,

You are 21 months old today!

chewing bananas

Last night was your first night sleeping in your crib with the front side removed. For a few nights we’ve let you sleep on your mattress while it was just on the floor but it ended up feeling like a giant sleepover every single night. You would scatter blankets and pillows everywhere and one night I came in to check on you and you were UNDERNEATH the sofa chair. Your tiny head was sticking out. Snoring.

We still haven’t bought you a real toddler bed (and probably won’t for another month or so) but we knew that just having the mattress on the floor wasn’t a clear enough distinction of This Is Your Bed. Please Stay On It.

Daddy put your crib back together last night and you waltzed through the doorway of your room and saw it and shouted, “BED!” The minute we put your mattress in it, you ran full force and shimmied up onto it and I said, “want to go night-night?” and you laid your head right down and grinned like a little weasel. Of course, I’m not sure if weasel’s grin. But if they do, I think your smiles would be similar. Sneaky-like.

I kept the baby box (the baby monitor) on the edge of the nightstand all last night and had the volume turned up extra high. I wanted to hear your first thump so I could come rescue you.

Apparently, I had enough pillows and blankets on the floor to protect your fall because I NEVER heard a thump or a cry from you. But I checked on you in the middle of the night and sure enough, you were in the floor. All curled up, snoring. I tucked you back in and hoped you’d stay put. This morning I opened your bedroom door to find you back in the floor again.

You got really sleepy this afternoon and so we trekked upstairs so I could tuck you in for a nap. I forgot your juice cup downstairs so I just left you in your room while I scooted back downstairs. You screamed and cried and banged on the door shouting OPEN DOOR. OPEN DOOR.

When I came back in, just a few minutes later, this is what I found:

tucked in

You were so sleepy that you climbed into bed by yourself, wrapped the big snuggly blanket all around you and went off to sleep.

It’s just really amazing that you are big enough to whirl around through the room, jump onto your bed, shimmy down quickly, and when hearing Daddy outside your bedroom door after his long day at work to say, “Daddy? Open door!”

You are actually talking quite a lot. You know a gazillion words. But you have been stringing them into small sentences for a few months now. “Peese, mihk?” “Turn music iPod on?” “Wheresa Daddy?” “Daddy work!” Those are just a few of the phrases you regularly say now.

The stairs are currently your favorite thing in the world. You call them steps. Which is fine. Because they ARE steps. And you say “down steps” and “up steps” for downstairs and upstairs. You scoot down them on your bottom sometimes but mostly just on your tummy. Not head first. I didn’t allow your Daddy to teach you that. 😉

The tiny kitchen we bought you for Christmas is still something you are enjoying (your Daddy taught you to put your stuffed penguin inside the oven and now you bake your penguin on most days, which is horrid but very, very cute). Interestingly, you have figured out how to take the entire kitchen APART! I found the sink in your bed the other night. What could you possibly need to wash in your bed?

penguin baking

But for all the toys and wonderful wigglies that your family and friends gave you at Christmas (and boy, you got A LOT and folks were really generous), you still love the mundane everyday types of items that you find in the house. In fact, you sometimes love them more. Which would have saved us a LOT of money if you’d just sent us an email.

Rolls of tape are your current fascination. You started calling them sticker rolls this morning. I’m not sure how you figured out how to pull a piece of tape off but you did. Our sticker rolls are now starting to become depleted. But you still can’t get the duct tape roll to “open” and for that, I’m grateful. All we need is for you to discover how wonderful duct tape is.

You are still fighting a cold (I’m calling it the Fungus of the Bungus because I’ve never seen so much snot and tears all mixed together and snears or tot don’t quite get it). It’s miserable to see you so fussy and sick.

sick with the fungus of the bungus

But even in the midst of your funk, you have a few bright spots in your day.

It’s normally when you start running the circle through the living room, kitchen, and dining room. You get started and then CANNOT STOP. You wiggle your head back and forth and giggle and get really dizzy. I imagine it’s like being on drugs.

Hmm. I might try that if I get in a funk. The running around in a circle. Not the drugs.

You also forget about being so sniffly and coughing up both lungs when you start driving your cars ALL over the house. Even on the grandfather clock.

zooooom!

I’m hoping the cold is over soon. I want you to be able to play more and enjoy some of your new toys and I’d really like to get out of the house more. I know you LOVE it when we go outside and since we haven’t been out much at all lately, I think we’re both getting stir crazy.

Your daddy took us out for dinner last night and when we got out of the car and headed towards the restaurant, you looked up at the sky and said “ceiling?”

I think that was a major clue that we need to get outside more often. So. Please get better soon. I’m trying to help you with all the Vitamin C and hugs and warm baths and chicken noodle soup and picture-time.

Picture-time is when we curl up with Elsa, my laptop, and scroll through my pictures and videos and look at family. You absolutely LOVE doing this. I’m so impressed that you can remember faces and names of people you don’t see very often.

You even remember them at odd moments during the day. Yesterday you asked where Wilma was when I was pouring some milk into your juice cup. And this morning you asked where Gammie was when we opened the front door to wait for the Oil Man to deliver some more oil so we can be warm. And a few minutes ago I heard you whispering Poppy, Poppy, Poppy while playing with your dump truck.

It’s obvious that you have an imagination and memories. I think, perhaps, that the best way to sum up how different you are at 21 months is that you love to pretend now. Your pretend phrase is “doot da doot” and I hear it a lot when you drive bananas pieces around on the table.

I love you so much it hurts.

Mommy is struggling right now with thoughts on faith and it feels at times like perhaps my depression is back. But when you peek around the corner and grin so widely that I see all your precious teeth, you don’t know how much you help heal my soul.

And when you whisper night-night to me and say I LUFF YOU in the dark, you don’t see the tears that pour down my face.

Your Daddy and I thought we had to be out of our minds when we decided to have you. We weren’t in the best place financially, or even emotionally. We were still new at marriage and it was all we could do to stay best friends at the end of our long work days.

But we ached for you. And God blessed us with you.

We hope and pray that we can show you love and grace for years, and years, until we are both gray and have grand-babies and great-grand-babies scurrying around our feet.

But I don’t know what our future holds. I have wept this week as I’ve read stories of families who have lost their sweet children at a young age. I simply cannot comprehend losing you. It feels wrong to even write about it.

But if God grants us the sweet blessing of long days ahead, I want you to someday read these words and know that I do not take our precious days for granted.

And when I see you sound asleep, I will snap pictures of you and giggle at how one day you will be in awe that you were so tiny.

sound asleep

And we will smirk about how it looks like you are about to start disco dancing.

I love you! A bushel and a peck. And a hug around the neck.

Love, Mommy