Wordless Wednesday

Oh, Captain! My Captain!

I know somebody who loved helping drive the pontoon this weekend!

I know somebody who had fun with new friends!

I know somebody who didn't notice the wind, the rain, nor the cold.

This is the coldest summer. The summer the sun would not shine. The summer the swimming would not happen. The summer the smores would go unfired. The summer the SPF would go unslathered. I'm sorry your summer has been this way, lil' dude. If I could change it for you, I would in an instant. But you don't seem to mind. You roll with the punches. You play the hand you were dealt.

You make your Mama proud.

Letter from Mama, v20

You are 20 months old today, lil' dude! You're in your '20s!

This shouldn't surprise you, but I have your 2nd birthday party planned, and I've stashed away little goodies here and there for the treat bags for your pals. Because, HELLO, you'll be 2 in just four months. Time doesn't have to slow down though, or hurry up. Time can stay where it is, minute by minute, because I'm here enjoying you as you grow up right before my eyes. I revel in each and every milestone you hit, I laugh when you're funny, I whisper when you're asleep, and I treasure every piece of you. You have this ability of being one step ahead of me. For months, I positioned your little tush on your pink princess throne of a toilet. I filled up a potty-only basket of toys, books, and games. I rationed out mini-M&M's. I read. Then, last weekend, you had to go ... so I positioned your little tush on the normal toilet and there you went, no big deal. All week long, in fact, you've done that. You simply are one step ahead of me. I love it! Forget the published journals, textbooks, and famous, expert authors. Everything I've needed to learn about parenting, I've learned from you.

This week, Daddy bought some sweet corn from the same guy he buys from every summer. This year, you got your very own cob, cooled plenty, buttered minimally. You ate the rest of your meal around your corn, leaving it alone on your plate. You touched it with a fingertip. You peered down at it, eye-level. You blew on it, for good measure. Then, you cried. No, off! So, I stripped the cob of its kernels and gave you a spoon and you cheered right up. You don't need fancy things, or new stuff. You remind me of your great-grandpa R. He always jokingly said, if the cow ain't broke, don't fix it. Now, that cliche doesn't make sense and he knew that, but he said it anyways.

You're slowly losing your baby words. All-d has been replaced with all done. You want to pick your sippy cup out yourself. You insist on climbing into your car seat unassisted. In the mornings, you march right up to the Daycare Lady's door, and whip open the door, and burst in declaring your arrival. It's almost like you're too embarrassed for your littles to see you being carried in by your mom! I mean, you're 20 months old! Way too old for such preciousness. But, I still make a production out of smacking you on the cheeks with big, noisy kisses, and brushing your bangs out of your face as I tell you to be a good girl. I can do that because I'm your mother, just sayin'!

And, because? Mama loves.

Not Without Her

There are days, when things just go. And I can't remember what books we've read, or what meals were served, or what words she whispered to me in the glow of the lamp in her room. I wish it weren't so, but that's life.

This morning wasn't much different except that it was.

The lil' dude and I sat as one on the couch, her pink NaNa covering us both. I was administering the Neb as her lungs have been rattly the last day or so. She was sleepy and not putting up any fight, so different from the last time the Dad and I held her down to strap her mask on ... in December, on Christmas afternoon. I think part of her knows now that medicine will help her feel better, making her chest expand once again to include laughing and running.

When we finished, I kissed her blond melon and situated her in her chair to wait for Daddy to bring her to daycare.

As I got to the entryway, digging for my keys and shoes, she heard me. No, no, NO, Mama! Mama! I quickly went to the garage, to put my things in the truck, to get something out of the freezer for dinner. I had planned on going back to her, back for her.

She was immediately on the other side of the door when I reached it, and she was crying hard. Big, fat tears. I scooped her up, balancing frozen chicken breasts in one hand, sad daughter in the other. It's OK, lil' dude. I came back for you. I'm not gone, you can come with. She kept repeating, lil' dude go bye-bye. Lil' dude go.

And naturally, on the short ride in, she was fine. We said our joint goodbyes to Daddy, counted the big trucks and buses we passed, and drank waters. Her tears dried, and she bounded up the stairs to daycare excited as ever.

Yes, there are days when things just go.
But I'll never go without her.

Wordless Wednesday

Giraffes

Last night, Daddy and Mama went on a date.
It was an important date, as we went to our first concert together.
I know, I know. We've been a couple for over six years, but had yet been to a concert together.
I joke it's because he has poor taste in music.
He jokes it's because I have poor taste in music.
I don't. Clearly. You love my music, lil' dude!

We went to the state zoo, and saw Paolo Nutini perform at the amphitheater.

We walked past the monkey's houses, walked past the grizzly bear exhibit. Deep, deep into the woods we walked, hand in hand, giggling about taking you to that very same zoo a year before. And then, the music began.

Paolo Nutini's first album was released in 2006, and somehow I stumbled onto it. And, somehow I managed to get Daddy a-listenin' and we both fell in love with his Scottish rogue and lyrics. Imagine that! Mama and Daddy liking the same music, the same album.

Last night, as he took the mic, he made no preamble. He began to sing, dedicating his song High Hopes "to the giraffes." I melted a little.

My hopes are high,
but my eyes
can't believe
what they see,
give me something to
believe in, give me
something to
believe in.



*A special thank you to your Auntie B. for giving us the opportunity to cross go to a concert we both like off the bucket list. And, to neighbor E., your babysitter. You know, the one you holler to from your bedroom window when you hear her voice laughing from her deck or in the pool.

Imagination

Being on this side of you imagination is a trip, lil' dude. You are finally getting to the point where you actually play. If I'm in your closet putting away clothes or organizing your chaos, you pat the floor beside you, inviting me to sit. Toys, you say and hand me a prop.


Your fine-motor skills are really developing. You can match where your farm animals and their beds are in the farm by looking at the pictures. You can name all of them except for the pesky sheep. You call him a puppy, but that's OK. And you think most animals moo, and that's also OK. I still think you're as brilliant as the sun.


Help, you sign, when something gets stuck or won't fit right. Yesterday, you had your yellow chicken driving the bus! I kept saying, "but lil' dude, your chicken CANT DRIVE THE BUS!" all dramatic-like, and you laughed and laughed. In your world, anything can happen. Anyone can drive the bus.