My Blog

Month 43

2012-05-08T22:42:49Z

Dear Olivia,

I'm sure you're wondering what's been happening to me lately - I spend a good portion of the day making strange noises while I feverishly rub my eyes. You see me disappear upstairs in a hurry only to reappear with a puffy face and bright red glossy eyeballs. I can only imagine that from a child's viewpoint, it looks like an ungodly Hulk-like metamorphosis that at any instant will cause my head to crack open only to have some mythical creature emerge. Sadly, I wish it was some awesome earth shattering event but I'm afraid it's just allergy season. In any other household this may not be a big deal but when you have two parents who suffer miserably, you're going to take notice. Unfortunately, I hear it is genetic so have fun with this one.

I'm extremely agitated this time of year because of allergies so my patience level is nil. I struggle with patience to begin with so add all the other allergy crap on top, you're going to have an angry Mom and I'm sure you're aware. You do a great deal of what I call, "roundabout talking" that drives me absolutely crazy. You typically like to do this while in the backseat as we're barreling down the freeway. Olivia: "Where are my headphones?" Me: "I don't know, sweetheart. Are they on the seat next to you?" Olivia: "I don't know. Hurry up and find them - I need my headphones." Me: "I can't look for them, I'm driving." Olivia: "But I need them. Where are my headphones? HEADPHONES! Where are my HEADPHONES!!" I turn around, while driving, just to see if I can catch a quick glimpse of them just to put an urgent halt to this conversation. Me: "Olivia, for crying out loud - they are in your hand!" Olivia: "Oh. I don't want my headphones." Me: "You don't want your headphones? The headphones you've been inquiring about for ten minutes - now you don't want them?" Olivia: "No. No I don't." And there is one piece of evidence as to why your Mother drove off a cliff twenty years from now.

I find the mind of a preschooler to be quite interesting. You bring up topics of discussion that are quite curious for a three year old's thinking. I often find myself rather confused when I'm engaging in conversation with you because the questions you ask are so random. Case in point, I found myself in a lengthy conversation with you at the dinner table as to why it is inappropriate to buy a human being. You seemed rather confused and a little upset at the notion that it was never ok to buy a person. Now, in the fascinating mind of a three year old, I would like to know when and why the suggestion of buying a human being entered your brain. I know they're not talking about trafficking on Dora and Diego, or are they?? Is there some weird subliminal shit going down at Nickelodeon that parents are not aware of?? Yes, I will repeat it again. No, you cannot buy or own a human being. End of story.

I have been warned on numerous occasions that three year olds are worse than two year olds. I remember thinking how this could even be remotely possible. Unless my child actually turned in to a demon, I don't see how it could get worse. It's funny how children can challenge those thoughts. Three year olds are a much bigger different beast than a two year old. A two year old doesn't communicate very well so there are a lot of dramatic emotional melt downs. Three year olds are dangerous on a whole new level. They're language has become frighteningly good. Their demands have gotten a little more detailed and sophisticated. They are fearless. You, my dear are fearless and give little care to repercussions. You are suddenly very defiant. You ask me if you can paint. I tell you no - we're about to have dinner. This means nothing to you. You'll ask another five times or so when suddenly you realize you're not getting anywhere asking me so then you'll just say - I'm just going to go paint. When you realize negotiations are not going quite in your favor, you just go for it anyways except I'm on you like white on rice so your attempts to undermine me fall short. You will ask repeatedly with the hopes that you can chisel away at my patience until I finally wave my white flag. Unfortunately for you, I'm just as stubborn. Looks like no painting for you.

We had a situation at your Preschool recently that involved your teacher expressing her concern that she didn't think you were well - in her words, your energy level seemed to be off and she caught you attempting to nap in the playhouse outside. I know the real reason was because I sent you to school with green snot. Now, if I kept you home from school every time you had green snot, you would have missed 90% of the school year. You and every other child at that school has green snot - it's like a medal of honor for attending preschool. I was actually quite taken back when she said your energy was low because you're still bouncing off the walls at home. The napping in the playhouse sounds to me like you were bored - I've seen you do this at home. After talking with your Dad, we came to the conclusion that maybe you were still upset about your friend moving away because when we approached you about the things your teacher was bringing up, you replied that you were lonely. So I broached the subject to your teacher and she kind of brushed it off saying she didn't think it was loneliness that you were in fact sick. Unfortunately, later in the same day, you developed pink eye. Whether everything was related, I'll never know but pink eye is the worst. It's goopy and gross and unavoidable as Miles learned. I quickly got you on eye drops and your doctor said you were free to go about your day-to-day activities. You were proudly declaring that you had pink eyes - "I HAVE PINK EYES - I LOVE PINK!!" Just what I want, you announcing to your teachers, who already think you're sick, that you have pink eye. I asked you politely to not say anything and keep it just between us. You said ok. When I picked you up from school, I asked you if you told your teachers that you planted your sunflowers. You said, "No. I told them I had pink eye." Great job.

I'm afraid I have caught far too many glimpses in to your future teenage/20 something years. You demand a taste of liquor when ever a bottle is popped open, you lift your shirt up while dancing while rubbing your belly and you straight up pissed on the bocce court we were playing on. I'm quite certain this is a synopsis of a "Girls Gone Wild" episode. I'm not quite sure what to make of my children when you're doing this and Miles is playing three different women in the near vicinity of our table when we're dining out. You two are little disgusting party animals with an appetite for love and destruction. Thankfully you're not dry humping stranger's legs or we might have far more serious issues. People say children imitate their parents and I can attest that I have not exhibited this behavior in your presence. Yes, I'm 99% sure I have not exhibited this behavior in your company. Vulgar language doesn't count.

Love,

Momma

Month 18, Version 2.0

2012-04-22T06:29:22Z

Dear Miles,

You ate a complete pork chop the other night for dinner. I mention this because it is both amazing and incredibly frightening. How does an eighteen month old put down an entire cut of meat? I am informed by your Pediatrician how incredibly wonderful this is - you're eating well and you're eating because you need the protein as opposed to me who eats out of sheer boredom. Apparently at your age, there is no such thing as empty eating. I'm suddenly seeing dollar signs every time I change your poopy diaper which might I add, you crapped twice while putting down that pork chop. You know you have to keep the food in your belly in order to feel full? I really am stunned by this incredible feat of yours that it has become the second thing I tell everyone. Conversation usually starts with a, "Hey, how are you?" "I'm well. The other night Miles ate an entire pork chop all to himself." Good news is, Olivia is on a food strike if macaroni and cheese or ketchup are not served as a meal option so it kind of balances itself out.

You have followed in the footsteps of your sister when a new article of clothing is placed on your body. Liv does a weird strut/dance thing when she tries on new clothes and you are now doing your own version of an awkward attempt at modeling. You run in to whatever room someone is in and you take a wide stance and then continue to pelvic thrust the air. This is followed by Olivia belting out, "Miles, you look good!" It's very odd that the two of you play this game.

There is a newfound enthusiasm for most everything that enters your life and you feel the need to share ths enthusiasm with your Dad. Whether it be stacking the Play-Doh cups, Dora making an appearance on television, or the sound of a plane in the sky, you frantically shout, "DA! DA!" Each time getting louder until someone takes notice and acknowledges the amazing discovery you have unearthed. We spent a day at the Monterey Bay Aquarium and I actually think you were more in to it than Olivia. Liv is at the age where she has a solid three seconds for each attraction until she's ready to move on. Her reaction to everything is, "WOW - look at the fish! Let's go see something else now." You would find a spot and sit there mesmerized by what was taking place in front of your eyes. It really would have been a magical moment if it wasn't for Olivia demanding we get a move on it before I even realize what it is I'm looking at.

The ladies love you and you love the attention. At Olivia's preschool egg hunt, all of the girls in Liv's class followed you around as if you were draped in candy. When you sat down to fix your shoe, all seven girls sat around you in a circle, each taking turns petting you. Olivia stood back, arms crossed, with a look of complete confusion. The pinnacle moment of the day is when you won the heart of the beloved popular seven year old daughter of the office manager. This girl is loved by all the kids because she's older and cute. The kids were vying for her attention when she caught sight of you and suddenly the tides turned. She was vying for your attention and being the equal opportunity gent you are, you graced her with your company and she followed you around the playground the entire afternoon. I think she may have even shed a tear when you said your farewells - you're a lady killer, Miles. A true heartbreaker.

Eating out has become almost downright impossible with you. You refuse to sit still for any given amount of time, you grab anything in your reach and toss it in the opposite direction, and your volume level is embarrassingly high. Since you eat entire small animals, your strength is impressive for your short stature. You can actually get a high chair rocking if you're determined enough. Preparing a game plan before we enter a restaurant is mission critical if we're going to endure our meal with minimal glares. As much as I hate to feed you before we're about to eat, a cup of crackers appears to be as effective as duct tape. It's such an ordeal for a mediocre meal but I'm determined to press on because I do enjoy eating out and I'm determined to get you accustomed to the idea.

I'm intrigued to see how yours and Olivia's relationship will develop overtime. She loves you tremendously even if her actions don't always show it. She proudly introduces you to everyone which is followed by a wicked chokehold. She also likes to proudly state that you are in fact a boy which means you have a penis. Don't dare ask her the follow up question because she will proudly declare that she is a girl and girls have baginas. Yes, baginas. I love that you two share a room because you are developing a sort of comradery but you two can't seem to work out a synchronized sleep schedule so the two of you are always tired at strange times. You are an early riser and demand Olivia wake up immediately to provide you with your morning entertainment. Liv is a night owl and stays up way past the time she is put down and she expects you to stay up with her. Between you practicing WWF moves in your crib and Olivia screaming at you to "BE QUIET" when you're not even making a sound, I don't see how anyone has a good night's sleep in there. I would be more proactive in remedying the situation but I'm still at my desk crying over my depleting bank account due to my increased grocery store visits. Perhaps you can start eating over at one of your girlfriend's houses to ease up on my pantry. Just an idea.

Love,

Momma

Month 42

2012-04-02T22:36:09Z

Dear Olivia,

I am incredibly amazed how hysterical you get when you start to have articles of clothing removed. Not hysterical from an angry standpoint but it's as if when you're naked, it some how evokes this animal within you who is trying to claw their way out. There is an enthusiasm beyond comprehension that you exhibit when you're naked and it's a joy for nudity that I'm a little jealous of. Unfortunately, responsibility and age seem to erase the joy of removing one's shirt and running around the house demanding everyone to "LOOK AT MY BELLY!!!" It's not to say that no adults enjoy the sheer intensity of nudity that most children experience although they typically go in to "entertainment' or hang out at certain resorts with people I can only imagine are named Duke and Butch. No no, the thrill of getting naked is certainly gone but I will continue to watch you vibrate across the house when I remove your clothes before bath time.

You have always been an excellent child when it came time to put you to bed. I have heard stories of children flat out refusing, demanding just one more of something or constantly getting out of bed and having to be escorted back. I finally understand the true meaning of every tired parent's favorite book, "Go the F**k to Sleep." You have an impressive list of nightly routines you have to act out and ask before I can finally close the door before you belt out, "hold on a second - you forgot something." There are times I return and you're unable to follow up that statement with anything which drives me mad but you've gotten smart. Now when I return, you say in your sweetest voice, "I love you with all my heart." You're smart because you know this statement won't make me mad and you know that this is the perfect time to ask for one more kiss. As I'm leaving, you remind me that it wasn't a big kiss - you wanted a big kiss. But wait, where is my hug to go with that kiss? Didn't you mention I could have a sip of water too? Miles now joins in on the action and demands a hug as well because I have been in there for a full 36 hours at this point. Once I hear the farts making their way in to the room, I'm out because I'm not changing another diaper and I refuse to wait another fifteen minutes while you sit on the toilet reading books and singing songs. Yes, that's great, love you to. Yes, love you with all my heart. Momma has got to go now - save me that hug for tomorrow. And just like that I run downstairs and turn the baby monitor way down low and pretend you're fast asleep. My mantra is if I can't hear you, you must be ok. So far so good. This mentality works most nights but sometimes guilt gets the best of me and I'll have to go in to your bedroom one more time to properly say good night. This occasionally means waking you up out of a dead sleep and scaring the bejesus out of you but it's enough to bring me comfort.

There are many times I question whether you and Miles should be in your own room and this is based on the fact that I have heard you on several occasions through the monitor tell Miles to "lay down and go to sleep - you're being too loud." This in itself is astonishing because your voice could break glass. There have been mornings when Miles wakes up painfully early and I know you're fast asleep. He of course is used to you providing entertainment until I arrive to bring you downstairs for breakfast so he tries to wake you up by screaming at you from his crib. I feel bad because I know you're tired but most of all I know if you don't get enough sleep, I'm the one who has to deal with the wrath of crabby you. The problem is, when you two are awake, you do entertain each other until I'm ready to get you. Without that comradery, I fear my shower may be cut short to nothing at all. Looks like you just may need to endure Miles a little longer.

You're driving me mad with your constant need to know what the "schedule" is for the day. You ask me, "what happens after breakfast? What happens after lunch? What happens after nap? What happens after dinner?" I guarantee the answer to all of these questions will not be the answer you are looking for. No, we are not going to Disneyland today and no, we are not going to a birthday party because let's be honest, you live for princesses and cake.

This past month brought the passing of our Maddy. You were tremendously close with her and I have wonderful memories of the two of you interacting. Unfortunately, you're at the age where you don't understand everything but you understand just enough to make conversations awkward. Having said that, I had to figure out a way of broaching the subject as to why Madeline won't be coming home. I found myself at a crossroads - should I lie and say she went off to fun on the farm or do I play the religious card and say she's in Heaven, which your Atheist Uncle will tell you is just as bad as saying she's having fun on the farm. Regardless, I decided to introduce the term 'Heaven' to you. Now, I am not a religious person but I do find myself to be spiritual. My parents didn't have me baptized when I was younger despite attending a Catholic church so that I could make this decision for myself and I greatly respect them for that decision. I feel it's only fair that I present you and Miles with the same religious freedom. You do attend a Christian preschool and Jesus is discussed quite a bit but how much you understand is beyond my comprehension. You may think he's a character on Nickelodeon for all I know but he has been introduced. So when the time came and you asked me where Maddy was, I in turn told you that she's now in Heaven. Your response was, "which Heaven?" I explain to you that there is only one Heaven and Maddy is having fun eating massive amounts of peanut butter and kibble and lying in the grass. You tell me that you miss her and I begin to think that maybe you understand a little bit. That is until the next day when you ask me if we can go to Heaven and pick her up.

At the end of the day, whether you decide to believe in Heaven is up to you. If you want to believe there is a giant unicorn in the sky who poops rainbows, I'm all for it as long as you're happy and as long as you don't have a problem with my beliefs and try to convince me otherwise. I'm not joining any damn cults, I don't care how awesome you think it is.

Love,

Momma

My life according to the camera

2012-03-27T21:23:43Z

What have we been up to??

Besides spoiling our Corgi, Fabrizio, rotten with lots of walks, we celebrated St. Patrick's Day with cotton candy bigger than our heads, numerous trips to the library and a discovery of an awesome place called Studio Grow. We went here for a birthday party and the kids had such a good time playing with everything from toy lizards to blocks to the little roller coaster. Which, might I add, took everything I had to keep myself from jumping on it and going for a ride.

Olivia earned another ribbon in swim class advancing her to the level where she will now learn arm strokes. Again, I was the loudest parent in the waiting room when she passed her test. Not to be outdone, Olivia spent the remaining fifteen minutes of her class jumping up and down proclaiming "I DID IT! I DID IT!"

I discovered Ryan is quite handy with a saw - building a monster planter box for me. Although, the final product eerily resembles a coffin - not sure if this was Ryan's subconscious taking revenge upon me for asking him to tackle this large feat.

The weather remains cold and gloomy which means this California girl needs to pack up in search of some sunshine. Any suggestions for a road trip??

Month 17, Version 2.0

2012-03-21T05:17:37Z

Dear Miles,

I am exhausted and I have a very strong suspicion it is your constant crying that makes me feel like I never get a good nights rest. My exhaustion from listening to you cry for the past seventeen months has made me a little crabby as well - I snapped at a poor woman at Starbucks for trying to take my coffee only to learn that it was in fact her coffee. There are times I wish I could just hang a sign around my neck that states 'mother of a difficult toddler - forgive me for my clueless nature - have not slept for quite some time.' Seriously though, what is your deal? I get it that Olivia is always in your face and sometimes she's a little rough when she goes in for a hug but we've gotten to the point where all she has to do is look at you and you run away crying. I am starting to catch on to the fact that perhaps I'm being played. Maybe I have over reacted a bit in the past but it's kind of a necessity for your well being when Olivia tries to pelt you with golf balls. Fortunately for you, she has crappy aim. I know you have the fight in you to strike back - you proved this quite well when you decided to take down Olivia at the park last week:

You're trying to find your voice which is nearly impossible when you're with Olivia. I too struggle to find my voice when I'm with her but you have to reach down deep and grab hold of something. Language isn't your strong suit but maybe you can growl or something like Merrik does. It's true, Merrik has resorted to growling at other children when he's angry. I guess it's better than hitting.

I'm fairly certain our neighbors think I'm a horrible parent because every time I open the front door, he's within an earshot of you screaming and flailing your body across the front porch while Olivia is having a crisis in the driveway asking for 'just one more, PLEASE!' over and over again. This is happening while I'm also screaming Fabrizio's name as I try to corral him back in the door. Yes, this does happen every day. I'm actually quite surprised he hasn't staged an intervention or called social services on us.

The other week, we decided to take away the almighty pacifier. It wasn't something we planned nor did we have any inclination as to how you would handle the absence of your dear friend. I had put you down for your nap and I found myself without your pacifier. It was gone and you have a knack for hiding things really really well. I spent two hours looking high and low without success. You didn't cry or fuss but it did take you a little longer to fall asleep. Finally I found it in my kitchen utensil drawer which has proven to be a guaranteed location for lost items, big and small. By the time we found it, you were fast asleep so we didn't bother you with it. Given how well you did without it, we decided to put it away for bedtime and again, you didn't fuss or whine. Sounds great with the exception of two things: 1. it takes you a really long time to fall asleep now. I'm talking a good hour to hour and a half which is fine except you keep Olivia awake which makes for brutal mornings. And 2. you're extremely loud without it. You're a loud kid in general but you are bullhorn loud without something to smother the sound. Your sleep schedule is totally out of whack because of the pacifier take-away. I'm now startled out of sleep at 5:45am to the sound of you screaming every thirty seconds from your crib because you can't settle yourself back down. I will happily give you back the damn pacifier if you will let me sleep until 7:30. I will downright let you swim in a sea of pacifiers if you will stop crying for an afternoon.

I have discussed your rapid transition from good mood to bad mood in the past and it has become blatantly obvious as you get older. You will be whining and crying and Olivia will belt out in song and it's as if rhythm has a hand and grabs you because you starting bouncing, gyrating, shimmying all around the room. Gloria Estefan was talking specifically about you when she claimed the rhythm is going to get you. You have become Olivia's backup dancer which provides endless entertainment at all hours of the day. Your preference is house music but you're unbiased - clearly when you attempt to find a rhythm in Olivia's songs.

I am worried for you that given your lack of vocabulary and your constant fussing that perhaps something greater is wrong and I'm just too clueless to pick up on it. You know, I don't get an informational pamphlet when you're born explaining what to do in certain situations. I'll be honest that your Dad and I have been a little out of sorts lately with our dear Maddy-girl passing which by the way breaks my heart that you won't have any memories of her but thankfully for you, I live life through the camera lens so you'll have photos to look at. It's clear that when it comes to parenting you, I'm winging everything with the hope that I get lucky and you make it out alive. There isn't a second that goes by that I fear I'm really messing up with you and you may be a complete basket case as an adult. I seriously have no idea what to do with you except hold my breath and make lots of penny wishes in fountains because we're banking on pure luck, kid. I am sorry if you grow up to resent me which I'm sure you will. I want you to know that I will continue to wait patiently with each and every scowl, kick, scream, whine and pout because occasionally you do smile and laugh and those moments are perfectly lovely. I am still terrified of raising a boy because you're proving my theory right that boys are loud and dirty but in the end you're still my loveable baby boy. Well, to be precise, my loveable sensitive Kajagoogoo baby boy.

Love,

Momma

Month 41

2012-03-01T23:56:47Z

Dear Olivia,

You have been at preschool for six months now and still love it. You get excited about going and sometimes it seems to be the only thing you can talk about. You have never been worked up about going or ever told me you don't want to go. I think a huge contributing factor to your good mood about school is your dear friend Sydney who you developed a close-knit relationship with early on. I mentioned before that it took you a good couple months to warm up to the other kids and actually engage with them as opposed to watching them from afar. Sydney was the first girl I saw you frolicking with around the playground, always holding hands. When I dropped you off in class, Sydney was right there to give you a hug and say good morning. When it was time to go, you always made sure to find her to give her a goodbye hug. It is a super precious little friendship you two have developed and special since it's the first friendship you made on your own without me telling you, I'm friends with so-and-so's mom so you should be friends with her kid. I am so thrilled that you developed a bond with someone early on and you did it all by yourself. You can imagine how horrible I felt when I learned that Sydney was going to be moving away at the end of February. It wasn't so much as a horrible feeling but more of a WTF! You're here at preschool for six months and decide to move on!? Seriously, WTF?!

All I can think about is how am I going to tell you and more importantly, will you understand? We can't get off so easily - you're first invited to attend her birthday party, you know, to really make sure the friendship sticks before it's yanked from your little hands. For the course of the month, when I asked you the normal follow-up questions to your day at preschool, you would riddle off all the things you and Sydney did that day and I would ask if you played with anyone else. No? Perhaps you should. No no, not Bella - anyone but Bella. Ok fine, play with Sydney. The month went by so fast and the birthday party was upon us. The party would also be the last time you would see her. According to your Dad, whom I might add braved a child's party with two kids on his own because I had a baby shower to go to - big props! He mentioned you two were inseparable and when it was time to leave, you cried. Sydney quickly came to your aid and told you not to cry, you two would see each other again soon. It's probably a good thing I wasn't there because I probably would have forced every one to join in one huge group hug as we sang Kumbaya. Seriously Sydney, if you're going to be leaving, at least be a horrible kid - scratch Liv or push her down - anything to make the departure less painful. I know Bella would step up.

This past Tuesday would be your first class without your friend. We've talked your ear off about Sydney leaving to prevent any surprises and I could already sense a difference about you. You didn't want to go to school that morning and when I asked you why you told me that "Sydney doesn't want to be my friend anymore." WTF Sydney?! Again, I'm trying to explain to you that sometimes people move away but they never stop being your friends - obviously, you, a three year old is not understanding this explanation. You get out of bed half-heartedly and get ready for school. We make it to school but you really could care less. When it's time to go in, you bury your head in to your hands and start crying. You tell me you don't want to be there if Sydney isn't there. Thanks a lot Sydney. Your teacher sees me struggling with you outside and quickly brings you in. This is typically where a distraction can be made so I can make a seamless escape. No, this is not happening this time. You begin to scream and throw one of the biggest tantrums I have ever witnessed. What was briefly a happy classroom filled with chattering and laughing children quickly comes to a halt. I see their little happy faces slowly turn to dread as they're witnessing you flail your body in your teacher's arms while screaming violently. That's my cue to leave and of course, never a situation that makes a parent feel warm and bubbly upon departure. I walk away so sad that you, a three year old, has to deal with this level of dissappointment. It's not fair. You will have a whole life of dissappointment, why does it have to start now? Sure, we can plan play dates but it won't be the same. She was a special part of you and you clearly don't understand because you're dealing with a heartbreak of someone you think no longer likes you. This absolutely kills me as a parent.

I'm beyond myself when it comes time to pick you up and I can only imagine the worst to how your day went at preschool with out Sydney. I picture you playing in the sand by yourself and eating lunch by yourself as you watch the other children playing together from afar. All of this isn't helping the least bit and I expect to open the door to see you huddled in the corner with a swollen face from crying uncontrollably for four hours straight. Instead, you come bouncing to me with the biggest smile holding the hands of another girl as you proudly announce, "THIS IS KAYLEE, SHE'S MY NEW BEST FRIEND!!" According to your teacher, you shed a tear for Sydney for a solid thirty seconds before moving on . . . to Kaylee. So that's how it's going to be? Sorry Sydney, I guess your relationship was as special as a toothpick.

I was shocked and then relieved. You were able to let out your emotions and move on. Looking back, I'm almost envious. I can't tell you how many times I wanted to throw a massive tantrum in public over my disapproval over something but we adults have to display a crappy thing called self-control. You dealt with it the only way you knew how and you were able to move on from it. Maybe we adults can learn something from this. Perhaps our bottling up of emotions is the sole reason we hold on to things for far longer than necessary. It's not as if you have forgotten Sydney - you remind me on a daily basis that she has moved away but the pain isn't so crippling that you're consumed by it.

You're much smarter than I give you credit for and I'm beginning to understand that a lot of your frustration is me and Dad not taking you seriously. The other day you were being reprimanded . . again. As you walked away, you shook your head and said, "this is ridiculous." You're sassy and smart and that is what's going to make you Queen of the Universe one day. I'm proud of the way you dealt with your first big heartbreak and I have confidence that you will be a strong woman one day. Good job O-Bear.

Love,

Momma

Month 16, Version 2.0

2012-02-21T01:10:25Z

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

2012-02-05T22:50:22Z

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

2012-01-20T05:02:27Z

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

2012-01-03T23:37:24Z

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