Month 12, Version 2.0

Dear Miles,

Woooooot - we made it a full year!  Let me say it again, WOOOOOOT!  This has been one tough year and we scratched and clawed our way to get to this point and I really feel like I can sigh a huge breath of relief that the so called "infant" days are behind us.  Believe me when I say that I do mean this with a heavy heart because there are certain moments that I will miss such as you sleeping on my chest or you being immobile.  It's tough raising an infant simultaneously with a toddler - both demanding so much of my attention and there were times where I actually thought I might be experiencing a panic attack or approaching a nervous breakdown but we crawled through the trenches and we did it without anyone losing an appendage.  My sanity is a little scarred but I'll take it as a consolation gift.  I've been told on numerous occasions from your pediatrician that there is something magical that happens at the twelve month marker - things will suddenly become easier.  You and your sister will begin to play together and I will finally receive some much needed relief.  You can imagine that I'm a little skeptical.  I used to believe in magic before I had children but I no longer do.  I want to believe but I have a sinking suspicion that my idea of 'easy' is a little different than what the pediatrician is thinking.  I'll admit that I do wake up on most mornings with a little hope as I creep in to your room thinking "will this be the day?  Does the easy part start now??"  Typically three minutes after walking in to yours and Olivia's room, I realize that nope, today is most certainly not the day and if it is, I was most definitely wrong about what 'easy' means.

Thankfully, you're outgrowing your severe anxiety towards others.  No longer do people have to look at you from the corner of their eyes or talk to you from the next room over.  You say hi or what sounds like "heh" to every passing stranger.  You bat your little lashes and turn your head coyly when someone responds with a smile.  Yes, you are a tremendous flirt and you win the heart of every passing female and a few men.  You are so cute that there are no words to describe the magnitude of cuteness.  It's even adorable when you cry and get frustrated and you run away making this little whimper sound and your face gets all scrunchy.  You are still most definitely a Momma's boy and I love it.  I love that I'm your safe haven.  Who doesn't like to feel like the most important person in someone's life and honestly, I know it won't last forever.  It only lasted a good solid two years with Olivia and now I'm part of a bi-monthly rotation.  I will take as much as I can get now and I will love every second of it.

You're an active little man who loves to climb stairs, stand on furniture, dance to Kanye and Nicki Minaj (yes, I have video if you're wondering).  People are surprised when they learn your age and see how advanced you are walking.  I can't say I'm surprised since you spent the better part of the summer pushing a weighted wagon around the court.  You have learned to nod your head 'yes' and 'no' in response to questions.  Your 'no' nod is typically followed with a clapping to conclude what ever it is we are doing at that moment.  For instance, hooray - I put down eight chicken nuggets and half of a slice of pizza and my stomach didn't explode *hand clap.* 

For a brief glimmer of time, I thought you were actually my child destined to be an incredible swimmer because you started putting your face in the water during bathtime.  I was thinking to myself how incredible it was that you were learning to blow bubbles on your own.  For three whole nights I thought I had a swimming prodigy on my hands but it turns out you were just drinking the bath water.

You really are growing up so fast and you're already smelling like boy but thankfully, something happens to a woman when she becomes a Mother and suddenly certain smells that should smell horrific actually don't smell so bad after all.  This is mostly true with the exception of the poops the day after you eat chicken nuggets.  It's not quite as bad as Olivia's calamari poop extravaganza of 2010 but it's a close second.  I love that I have you all to myself on Tuesday and Thursday mornings when Olivia is at school and I can parade you around to the public like a show dog.  You're a dangerous combination of cute, bashful, sensitive and mischievous and it's that combination that will probably get you off the hook in the future.  I love watching you play with the tuft of your stuffed lion's tail or when you're really tired, you'll play with my hair.  I'm just now noticing a running theme of hair - developing passion maybe? 

We had your birthday party yesterday at Emerald Glen Park and like Olivia's first birthday party, I got a teensy bit carried away.  You remind me a lot of the little man in the movie "Up" and I love balloons so I decided on an "Up" inspired party.  I actually just wanted a reason to have a lot of balloons and I knew if I had an "Up" party, your Father couldn't deny me balloons.  Your Father slaved away all morning blowing up a sizeable amount of balloons only to have his worst nightmare realized - a big wind came up and blew them away.  Your Father was quite pleased when he learned he had to blow up another bunch.  It was a morning of panic when some random rain clouds passed through and my vision of a perfect picnic party was in jeopardy.  Thankfully, everything worked out and you were adorable.  Half way through the party, you became a true O'Donnell by partying with your pants off, rocking a bow on your head - sign of a good time.

It was a tough year for many reasons but we did it.  You're becoming such an adorable little old man and I can't wait for you to tell me what you're thinking because I feel like you have some interesting thoughts.  You're the only little kid I know who looks like they're pondering life while staring in to the distance.  Perhaps it's a sophisticated poop face but I like to think you have intriguing complicated mind-blowing thoughts.  You still run to me when you're scared, sad or happy and no matter what I'm doing, I will always open my arms for you.  You are my little man and I'm still head over heels in love with you.  Happy Birthday my handsome little boy.

Love,

Momma

Month 36

Dear Olivia,

Oh my O-bear, you are now three years old.  3!  It's so cliche to say I don't know where the time has gone but it really is astonishing how fast time flies when you're chasing a toddler and an infant and answering repetitive mundane questions every two seconds.  Year two was a damn hard year and I bid it a fond adieu.  I am thrilled to put year two behind us but I proceed with caution since I have heard the 3's can be even more difficult than the 2's.  I don't see how this could be possible and there is no way I can prepare for whatever exorcism like tantrums you're about to enthrall upon the world but as long as I don't have any huge expectations, I can never be disappointed, right?  Sure.

We just returned from Disneyland and it was a very enjoyable experience overall.  Upon returning, you asked if you could live at Disneyland so I'm assuming you found the trip enjoyable as well.  I didn't witness too many outbursts but I can't tell if that's because you weren't having them or you were just blending in with the crowd.  You're going through a phase where you appear to be scared of anything and everything and Disneyland was no exception.  I understand being a little scared of random men who stare a little too long but then you started crying during very junior rides and then it started to get annoying.  Really, you're scared of Winnie the Pooh and Mr. Toad?  Your anxiety peaked on the drive home when a fly got trapped in the car and you became hysterical in the back seat because the damn thing landed on your knee.  There we are, barreling down I-5 with Grandma hanging over the back seat trying to catch this tiny fly while Grandpa is suggesting that perhaps what you saw was a raisin.  You're screaming hysterically and all the while, Miles is sitting pretty watching you lose it and I could almost feel his utter content with the situation.  Every time we thought we took care of the damn fly, you would begin to scream hysterically again.  Finally I had to pull over and as we opened the doors to let this one fly out, I'm positive I saw three more enter in the process but I didn't dare say anything.  You had an emotional run for the next thirty minutes before we could finally distract you with what you refer to as 'Pirate's Boobie' and a movie.

We attempted a 'Princess' breakfast for your birthday which I feel went over a bit better than the 'Princess' lunch we did at Disney World.  You are a bit more familiar with the princesses this go around as opposed to six months ago and you engaged with the ladies a little bit more rather than only saying, "this is my brother."  You were incredibly excited as they announced each princess and I watched you munch on your bacon with extreme intensity over the excitement of a real life princess headed your way.  I partly feel bad for the princesses because where they kneeled down to greet you, was a display of Miles' displeasure of the entire experience which included regurgitated sausage and waffle.  Your love of bacon was evident on your little paws and suddenly my heart ached for these poor ladies who deal with this day in and day out.  All in all, it was very enjoyable and you enjoyed yourself very much and Miles became thankful for low-cut dresses where princesses bosoms play peek-a-boo.  Yes, your brother is already a perv and yes, you will have to deal with it when you invite your lady friends over.

You love to get a rise out of me and you will do or say almost anything to achieve this.  Your ongoing goal is to see how much you can humiliate me in public and I'm certain you stay up late in bed concocting plans.  Case in point, at a recent trip to the grocery store, I'm attempting to purchase one tiny little carton of milk and your brother is attempting to dive head first out of the cart while you decide that the grocery store is just plain boring.  As I'm one-handed steering the cart while using my other hand to hold your brother down, you decide to drape yourself over the center aisle display of yogurt while announcing to the store, "HEY MOM - I'M POOPING!"  The poor elderly woman next to you turned her head so quickly, I thought she was going to get whiplash.  She glared at you with the most disgusted face and then she turned and glared at me because you know as a Mother, I have the capability to control every action and word you blurt out.  I quickly turn to you and tell you to not say those things and you, seeing the fact that I might be so humiliated that I might actually be crapping my own pants, you begin to laugh and yell louder, "I'M POOPING, I'M POOOOOPING!!"  You will see that once you have children, there is no such thing as a simple errand. 

You are very vocal now in your newfound awareness that people look different, i.e. skin color.  You obviously do not point out skin color in a derogatory manner but it definitely draws attention when you point out that a person down the aisle from us is brown and you are indeed white.  When I tell you Grandma will be visiting us, you question whether brown Grandma or white Grandma is coming.  Brown Grandma loves this because we all know how proud she is of her 'olive-complected' skin however, I am not thrilled of this new observant behavior.  I know it doesn't mean anything and you are simply just being an observant toddler however other people don't necessarily feel the same way and if I have you walking around pointing out every brown person, other people are going to judge me more so than they already do because as I mentioned before, because I am the parent, I am responsible for every word that is spewed from your mouth.

Your new preschool has introduced you to a plethora of religious songs which you boisterously sing everywhere which you then follow up with a very intense smack of your fist in to your hand where you bellow, "AMEN!"  You have scared the bejesus out of me and every poor living soul in your vicinity when you decide out of the blue to yell, 'AMEN!"  I have actually witnessed poor Miles stunned out of sleep by your voluminous voice.  Yes, I can sense you already hold deep religious convictions.

You are the only person I know who can look good parading around the house in nothing but your 'Jessie' cowgirl hat and you enjoy singing every thought that runs through your head in one endless ramble that can last upwards of twenty minutes or so.  You are obsessed with clutching your little princess figurines until you have glitter pouring out of every orifice of your body.  You're dirty, defiant, crusty, mouthy and yet you're perfectly adorable.  You have an attitude beyond your years and I'm sure we're in for a hell of a journey ahead of us.  Case in point, when your Father is reprimanding you, your response is, "FINE, JUST GO WORK!"  Only a parent can deal with the crap a toddler deals out and despite the bacon hands and the inch of snot caked on your nose with a tinge of glitter, I still can't get enough.  You drive me insanely crazy and my ass is constantly sweaty over public humiliation you cast upon me but you will always be my little O-bear or Gerri if that's what you prefer.  You are ridiculous and kooky and I wouldn't change a thing - well, maybe the attitude a smidge.  Happy Birthday my Olivia. Now, get back to work.

Love,

Momma