Month 18, Version 2.0

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

My life according to the camera

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

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 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 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