Month 16, Version 2.0

Dear Miles,

The other morning while putting your jacket on, I made the horrific discovery of scratch marks on the back of your neck.  I pulled your shirt down slightly to see that the horrible scratches continued down further and there was even some dried blood.  Obviously I didn't witness the event that took place but I had a fairly strong suspicion who the culprit was.  I'm fairly certain Freddy Krueger doesn't exist so that only leaves your adorable innocent sister.  I did notice Olivia's reaction when I first noticed the scratches and she turned quiet awfully fast.  When I asked her what happened, she told me it was an accident and she was trying to sleep.  I interpret this as she was trying to sleep and you were being loud so she climbed out of bed and attempted to decapitate you, accidentally of course.  Unfortunately, the attacks are happening a lot more and are becoming a little more violent.  I'm at the point where I can't leave you alone with Liv because the second I step away, she either takes something away from you, pushes, hits or scratches.  To be honest with you, I didn't experience life with a sibling like most people did.  Your Aunts are much older than me and I pretty much had an only-child upbringing.  When I mentioned my concern to your Dad, he was concerned but then chalked it up to basic sibling stuff.  He then continued to tell me stories how him and your Uncle Tim used to duke it out and often times, bruises and marks were the aftermath.  I knew siblings were tough on one another but this is not what I had in mind when I wanted kids close in age.  I'm saying it now, I'm not cleaning up drawn blood from the other sibling.  Going forward, you will have to settle matters with hugs and games of chess because I can't handle siblings turning physically violent.

You have this stuffed lion that you have adored since you were an infant and lately it has been your must-have companion.  He used to be a crib only companion but now you're taking your relationship a little further and now demand this lion go everywhere with you.  You toddle around clutching the lions tail as he drags behind you.  It is insanely adorable and equally disgusting because the lion quickly becomes a Swiffer collecting every bit of dirt and dog hair I left behind - a constant reminder my housekeeping skills are subpar.  This poor lion is taking a beating and I am sure I will have to brush up on my sewing skills because I know this tail isn't going to make it another year.  I made the poor mistake of trying to wash your beloved lion and he came out of the dryer with a new Al Sharpton look.  Of course your loud mouth sister had to pick him up and ask "what happened here?!"  Thankfully, your love for lion runs more than skin deep.  I have actually considered buying a couple extra as backups because I sense this adorable little love story may not have a happy ending.  Thankfully, your sister has a stone heart and never formed a bond with anything so I never had to go through what happens when a beloved friend is lost.  When I was younger, I do remember losing key stuffed companions and it was horribly traumatic and I would much rather not put you through that.  Of course, what your sister does to lion is beyond my control and I've seen her crazy side so good luck with that one. 

We've had a few milestones this past month that include being able to do down a big slide all by yourself.  Watching you climb a big play structure all by yourself typically involves me clutching the side of the slide with a half smile half terrified look on my face squealing 'eeeeeee.'  Your other major milestone is your ability to give a real hug.  This doesn't seem like a tremendous feat but after giving one-sided acts of affection for sixteen months, it's nice to have the actions reciprocated.  You run to me and throw your little arms around my neck and make the sweetest little sound - a little sigh of comfort.  It's just enough to make all the screaming and crying tolerable.

You continue to follow me around the house crying and Lord help me if I can't get dinner on the table in under five minutes.  My hands constantly have a Desitin smell thanks to your constant need to crap and I swear I have poop on me somewhere that has yet to be discovered because I can smell it when you're nowhere near the room I'm in.  You have discovered the thrill of tampons and the joy of unraveling toilet paper.  You continue to have crazy 80's hair and now share an uncanny resemblance of one Kajagoogoo front man.  You follow everything you do with a 'Ta-Da" and you enjoy spotting every plane that passes in the sky.  You're a screamer, whiner and apparently an easy target for Olivia.  Despite all this, I still find you so damn charming.  I guess that's hardwired in to Mothers because there is no way in hell anyone else would tolerate this crap.  How long can I tolerate this?  I can't honestly say but I do know if you push your luck, I'm going to allow Olivia to sleep in your crib with you and well, we know that's not going to end well.

Love,

Momma

Month 40

Dear Olivia,

To say it has been a difficult month would be an understatement and for the first time you're not the sole contributor to the problems.  That right there deserves a round of applause.  This past month has been jam-packed with a funeral, a car break-in and a sick dog.  Thankfully we decided not to bring you and Miles cross country for the funeral because you would have been very bored and very vocal about your boredom.  When we returned home, we were confronted with a very sick Maddy girl and her health quickly declined over the course of a couple weeks.  Your Father and I are devastated at the mere thought of Maddy being sick and naturally, began to think about all the bad things that could happen.  She still may have surgery in the coming week so we're not totally out of the woods yet but we couldn't help reminiscing over the bond you and Madeline have.  From the day we brought you home from the hospital, Maddy has been your friend and protector.  She has endured every finger to the eye, tumble on to her back and the most recent, permanent marker to the face and she endured all of this without snapping at you.  She has been a phenomenal "nanny" and we would miss her terribly if something happened to her.  You have expressed your concern to me about Maddy and promised me you would say a prayer for her before you went to bed the other night.  Fritz certainly won't tolerate your shenanigans so we need Maddy healthy to act as a buffer. 

I have been frustrated with you a lot this past month and maybe it's the culmination of everything or your constant need to harass Miles but you too have shown signs that you're also frustrated with us.  Typically after you have been reprimanded and you're asked to go sit down in the timeout chair, you usually call out some random word to get the last word in.  One incident, you started to walk away and you shouted, "and one last thing, PISTACHIO!"  You said it with a stern finger pointed at us and the dirtiest scowl I've ever seen displayed upon your face.  Your Father and I, dumbfounded by this bizarre moment, looked at each other and asked, "did she really just shout pistachio at us?"  Well the word has stuck in this house and has become a great stress reliever because I can't begin to tell you how many obscenities I would love to shout your way and we've all heard what happens when we casually say an obscenity in passing when we think you're not listening.  It seriously feels like I'm living with a parrot.  Anyways, 'pistachio' has become our faux obscenity word.  It's a nice word but has enough syllables to make you feel like you're really giving it to someone when you say it.  See, try it: "Pistachio you, you asshole!"  Feels good, huh?

You have always been in to dancing and music and now demand that I turn the music up when we're in the car.  This to me is a total luxury that I miss from pre-baby days.  Sometimes I fake an urgent errand I need to run just so I can play a song eardrum shattering loud in the car.  You recently told me you want to take dance lessons but I'm a little scared of getting caught up in some extreme dance school that makes you wear shiny jackets and crispy Aqua Net hair.  Besides, your dancing might be a little mature for the youngins being that you like to thrust your pelvis while belting out, 'I've got the moves like Jagger!'  It's every Mother's dream to see their three year old with these kind of moves.

You get in to trouble a lot and perhaps it's my fault for not giving you enough one-on-one time.  I feel like I'm always telling you, 'no,' 'stop,' or 'pistachio.'  I must complain a great deal to your Pediatrician because she always seems to be reassuring me how great of a kid you really are.  I'm pretty sure she thinks I hate you and we all know that's not true.  We just have an incredibly complex relationship where we're still trying to figure each other out.  We bicker a great deal and then we enjoy a cup of hot cocoa in tiny teacups.  We both fight to get the last word in and then we play superheroes outside in the court.  I'm not sure if it's normal for a Mother and toddler to argue as much as we do but I like to think it's because I have a strong-willed child.  I'm not opposed to you having an opinion that is yours I just wish your opinion matched mine.  I know, a common argument for most Mothers and hopefully one day when you're a Mother, you will understand.  Until then, I love you lots you little pistachio.

Love,

Momma

And a little look back at you and Maddy girl

Month 15, Version 2.0

Dear Miles,

One of the greatest hardships I have experienced with having two children is how to give one hundred and ten percent of myself to each of you when you both do not feel well and want nothing more than for me to hold you.  It pains me when either one of you are genuinely sick and just want Momma.  Unfortunately, siblings tend to get sick around the same time and now that you're a little more vocal in your demands, it's blatantly obvious that I'm the only one who can help you feel better.  You have had a rough month with illnesses.  Earlier this month you had your first vomiting episode since the infamous green vomit extravaganza of 2010 that landed us in Children's Hospital.  After crying for a record 1000 hours straight, you stood up in the bathtub and proceeded to vomit everything you ate that day which for you is a cow and a half.  I quickly grabbed you and bundled you up in my arms and I sat there for awhile and watched your helpless little face staring back at me.  I'll never forget your expression - a look of total defeat and calm.  At that moment I realized that I take for granted that you're a tiny little person who depends on me to keep you out of harm's way.  It's rather easy as a parent to forget how delicate their child is, especially at this age when you're running around the house screaming, stomping and hollering.  You definitely get your fair share of bumps and bruises but you pick yourself up and move on.  This expression you gave me while I held you in my arms made me realize that my role as a Mother is so much greater than changing diapers or keeping your hands off of Olivia's markers.  Not that those things aren't important because believe me, my house would look quite different if I went on a diaper strike while you ran around armed with Crayola's finest.  In that moment, I saw a profound love and trust in your eyes that quite honestly took my breath away.  Never in any of the jobs or roles I have held in my life beared so much responsibility and pride than being a parent and sometimes it takes these little moments to remind myself that what I'm doing is profound and permanent.

You're extremely open to the concept of tantrums and you feel empowered to display your right to protest anywhere at anytime.  For some reason, you tend to show your displeasure at Sprouts grocery store and we just so happen to be there when one individual is working in the produce section and he always stares a little too long in my direction.  I of course watch this out of the corner of my eye because I don't have the balls to stare at another adult in the eye when a child of mine is acting like a damn fool in public.  I'm dead serious when I say this happens every time we enter this particular store.  I've been in there half a dozen times and I still don't really know what that store looks like because I'm frantically looking for items in a store I'm unaccustomed with while keeping my head down to avoid adult eye contact. 

Your tantrums have started to evolve and now include heavy grunting, hitting and the infamous scowl.  I should take the hitting more seriously because I know it's just going to escalate further but there is really nothing funnier than watching a fifteen month old give it everything he's got and direct it towards your leg.  The blow of your fist is the equivalent of me gently bumping in to the coffee table - really nothing dramatic but your little face says you're pissed and you mean business with your fist.  When hitting doesn't get a rise out of me, then you run to my kitchen utensil drawer and start flinging spatulas.  This usually gets me on my feet.  We really were spot on when we coined you with "Irish Fire."  You have such a hot little temper for such a short-legged thing.  It's miraculous your head hasn't exploded yet.

As your doctor had mentioned to me, your separation anxiety would peak around this time and continue until around eighteen months.  There is no doubt that you have some serious anxiety about me leaving because if I even motion that I'm going to get up, you start to breath heavily and your face does this sour scrunchy thing and the tears begin to well up in your eyes and then the bellowing cries start.  You will follow me throughout the house crying hysterically until I either pick you up or allow you to hold my hand.  If you can hold my hand while I do things around the house, you're content.  Now, it's hard to find the latter annoying.  I'm not going to lie - it's nice having a strapping young fellow want to hold my hand all day.  You are always at my side whether I'm cooking dinner or scrubbing a toilet.  You set up camp at my feet and are content as long as I don't move beyond my little two foot square radius.  Does this make for an exhausting day?  Yes and I will terribly miss it one day. 

Your vocabulary hasn't improved all that much but I think we can make out "all done" when you're finished eating and "where's sissy?"  when you wake up from your nap.  You give hugs and attempt to give kisses which ends up being more of a head bow but we understand what you mean.   You're becoming extremely independent and a stroller is starting to look more like a death sentence when I pull it out.  I sense you will be a rough and tumble kind of kid and I visualize many trips to the ER in our future.  You're a special kid who has amazing potential that shines through a little bit more each day.  I know you will grow up to be a passionate fearless young man who will no doubt be successful in what ever it is you choose to pursue but I will always remember the one evening you were sick and I held you tight in my arms.  There was a calm about you that I haven't experienced with you since the first 24 hours after you were born and you refused to open your eyes.  You were at ease while I held you in my arms and we stared at each other for some time and everything in that moment was perfect.  Now, pardon me while I wake you up from a dead sleep to get one last squeeze from you tonight.

Love,

Momma

Month 39

Dear Olivia,

Your fourth Christmas has come and gone and as sad as I am for the holidays to be over, there is also a sense of relief to finally get you back on some kind of schedule.  There was a brief time when you would wake up and the first thing you would ask is, "Where am I opening presents today?"  It's true you cried hysterically when it was announced the last gift was being opened and at that moment, I vowed you would volunteer somehow at a future Christmas to learn how much you have and what little others don't.  Christmas quickly becomes all about the presents and it's not your fault you think this.  I know many adults who still center the holiday around the idea of presents but I really did try this year to make the month of December more about being with family.  The advent calender proved to be quite successful and your Father would hate to admit it but he actually enjoyed Christmas this year.  I was quite ambitious with one of our outings when I decided the entire family would go ice skating.  I'm never really sure how you're going to react to new things so we approached it carefully and tried our best not to scare you in our explanation.  I haven't ice skated in over a decade and your Dad has never so it would be a learning experience for us as well.  We took turns gingerly shuffling around the rink keeping you in a firm grasp in front of us and you loved it.  You weren't scared at all and you even demanded we let go of your hands so you could hold on to the edge yourself.  I think I was more terrified than I originally thought because when I stepped off the ice and relaxed, I realized I had been clenching my butt cheeks for a solid thirty minutes.

As I mentioned earlier, I can never be certain how you're going to react to something.  This year for Christmas, I wanted to buy you your first big girl bike.  You've been doing so awesome with your balance bike and you always make the observation that other kids have pedals on their bikes and you do not.  I took this as the sure tell sign that you were ready.  I found the perfect little bike complete with handle bar streamers and a little bag to keep all your rocks and trash you pick up along the way.  I was certain you were going to love it.  I saved it as your last gift and you opened it with little reaction.  You quickly pushed it aside and continued to play with some blocks on the floor.  I was slightly perplexed at your reaction because come on, what kid doesn't like a bike!  I made you go outside to try it out and all the while, you're not saying very much.  I place you on the bike while exclaiming what an awesome bike it is.  Obviously, I'm trying to sell this bike to someone who is clearly not interested.  You start crying that it's too big and you want off.  In all honesty, your feet can't quite touch the ground but you're the kid who just took to ice skates.  In my eyes, ice skating is far more terrifying - my ass can speak to that.  Anyways, you made your proclamation that you do not like the bike so in the garage this pretty little bike sits awaiting for the day you get over your fears.  I bring it out every time we're outside to see if you have had a change of heart but you remind me that that bike is not for you.

You're still loving preschool and sometimes I get a thorough explanation of your day i.e. songs you sang, crafts you did, kids you played with and I usually hear the same four or five names of children you seem to play with on a regular basis.  There is one child in particular who I hear a lot about.  Bella.  When I drop you off in the classroom, I hear her name being bellowed from your teachers followed by a firm 'no thank you.' At school events, I hear her name from her parents trying to coerce her in to the classroom.  When I pick you up from school, she is typically the defiant child who has to be pulled from the slides when she refuses for the umpteenth time not to come in to class.  So it was really no surprise when I learned a fellow classmate horribly scratched you across the cheek at snack time.  The teachers are not allowed to divulge the information as to who the evil little devil was but lucky for me, you're going through a bit of a taddle phase.  I'm a protective parent so naturally I want to take revenge on a three year old demonic child who lays a hand on my child.  I can't give specifics of what I've been fantasizing about but it may involve wedgies and some slight hair pulling. 

I have started a little habit of laying with you in your bed for five minutes or so when you go to bed at night.  It's not one of those parenting things where I have to lay with you until you fall asleep and you know I only do it when you're good.  You ask me several times throughout the day if I will lay with you that night.  I started doing it as a way to have a few minutes of one-on-one undisturbed time with you where you could tell me anything you want.  These are usually the times I hear the lovely stories of Bella but I hear a little bit about everything that encompasses a three year old's life.  You tell me what you enjoyed most about the day, what you want to do the following day, things that made you sad, happy and so on.  When our few minutes are up, you take my face in your little hands and give me an Eskimo kiss.  Occasionally as I leave the room, I hear your little voice say, "Momma, thank you for laying with me."  AAAAH!  That's not even fair!  And I quickly realize that I will be easily manipulated by your words if you choose the right words correctly.  It's ok, I'm a sucker for mushy moments, especially with you.

Love,

Momma

Month 14, Version 2.0

Dear Miles,

I have made the realization that you understand quite a bit more than I give you credit for.  Your vocabulary is still nil but you have some how grasped the idea of torment and vengeance.  I remember all those days we warned Olivia to stop tormenting you because there would come a day that you would understand vengeance and there wasn't a damn thing we were going to do to stop it.  Well, that day has come.  You enjoy walking around the house with your golf club like it's a scepter and you proceed to follow Olivia and wave it around in her face.  She places a toy on a table, you walk over with your scepter and knock it down.  She proudly stacks blocks to an impressive height and you proudly walk over and knock it down.  Olivia goes to the bathroom and while she seeks privacy, you seek an opportunity to torment her with a golf club while she sits vulnerable on a toilet.  Little did I know that I would all ready being hearing the words, "Mom, please call Miles - I need my privacy!"  Oh Miles, you are going to bring a whole new meaning to the title, royal pain.  Your constant need to tease and destroy comes from a long lineage of fellow harassers.  Your Great-Grandfather was a Granddaddy of non-stop verbal teasing and your Grandpa is quite similar.  Growing up, I quickly learned that to tolerate a pestering family member, one would have to become a master at patience and tuning out outside noises or become a master of annoyance.  Patience has never been my strong suit so I picked up on the latter of the two.  It would make perfect sense that my offspring would continue on with this legacy. 

Like I mentioned earlier, your vocabulary is still rather slim.  You say Momma, Dada, and that.  'That' is the word du jour of the moment.  You say it over and over as you point in a general direction and I spend a good ten minutes figuring out what ever it is that has caught your attention.  I remember when Olivia was this age, her vocabulary was also rather small - she too only said a total of three words and I remember panicking because I would see other children her age clearly vocalizing cat, dog, baby and I remember clearly thinking what a bunch of over achiever babies there were in the world.  I'm not worrying about you because your sister talks enough for the both of you and I know one day, you too will probably talk my ear off if I haven't already cut them off. 

This is a trying age because you're mobile but still unable to voice your needs and wants so there is a lot of frustration being exhibited on both our parts.  You are still incredibly clingy and never ever leave my side unless I actually pick you up and place you on the other side of the baby gate so I can attempt to clean a toilet without you interpreting it as playtime in the potty.  Life with a needy toddler can be both physically and emotionally draining but there are moments when I put all my responsibilities aside and I sit on the floor to just be with you.  You hear the ever so faint sound of my derriere hitting carpet and you come running from the far corner of the house with a huge smile.  A smile so big that makes me forget every hardship we had to overcome that day.  You run as fast as your chubby little legs can carry you and dive head first in to my lap where you proceed to nuzzle in for the night.  This is heaven to me.  You seem to consider this "our" thing because when Olivia attempts to sit in my lap, you swing at her and run away crying.  Yes, your tantrums still involve you running away and crying.  You typically return a few minutes later to see if the situation has improved any and if it hasn't, you run away again with tears bigger than golf balls. 

In addition to the simple pleasure of having you lounge in my lap is allowing you to run around naked before your bath.  Only a parent can do this because obviously if another person is watching my child prance around naked, we have a problem.  As a Mother though, this is my right and I exercise it religiously.  I find nothing cuter than watching a disproportioned cute chubby baby discover the thrill of being naked.  For what ever reason, when you're naked, you love to stomp your feet like an adorable midget sumo wrestler.  Of course, we have had the occasional naked accidents which include you being so excited that you ran in to the bathroom and slipped and hit your head on the ground and the other time you were also excited and peed all over the non-absorbent Ikea bath mat which you then proceeded to splash in.  You're probably thinking to youself, why did I allow you to splash in your own puddle of pee but little do you understand that babies are super fast.  I was literally standing within steps of you brushing Liv's teeth and in the moment I realized you were peeing all over yourself and the floor, you were already having a pool party.

Christmas is less than a week away and I can promise you it will be a whole lot better than your first Christmas - you know, the Christmas that almost wasn't because of your little health scare that landed us in Children's Hospital for far too long.  I don't care if you're vomiting glitter and sprinkles, we're not going to any hospital until after Christmas so save the drama for then.  We paid a visit to the mall Santa and as expected, you hated Santa but flirted a bit with the Asian elf.  You're a ladykiller and I will never be prepared for the amount of attention I expect you to receive from girls.  No girl will ever be good enough for you so don't even bother bringing them around.  Please stay my little Tiger Bear forever.  Please? 

Love,

Momma