Bad Mommy Mondays

Will now be an every-other-weekly event.  I just don't have enough to do ten a week.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

Dear Miles,

It's been a little while since I last wrote to you.  I wish I had a good explanation for you as to why, but suffice it to say that I just . . . haven't.

I hope you know, when you read this someday, that everything I've written here is for you.  Not everything is addressed to you, and not everything is about you.  But it is all for you.  So that one day, when you are tempted to believe that I do not love you because of some argument we've had or some issue we disagree upon, then, you may look to all that I have written, and know that I love you more than I could ever tell you.  So much so that the thought of you being angry with me someday has brought tears to my eyes, even imagining it.  You are my world, you and that amazing father of yours.  My world revolves around making the two of you happy.

I am in a contemplative mood as I write this, tonight, on the eve of the seventeen-month anniversary of your birth.  The day has been cool, though not as cold as it has been recently.  The fog of this morning gave way to an early thunderstorm this evening.  As you splashed in your bath tonight, the thunder boomed outside, and you growled back at it, reveling in the conversation you were having with Mother Nature herself.

And that moment described you in such perfect detail.  You are unafraid of the world - in fact, you view it as your playground.  One giant world, meant to be climbed, and stomped on, and growled at.  You take such delight in it all.  Giggling at the dog when he licks your face. Squealing with joy when someone laughs at your antics.  Bursting out with a jubilant "Hi!" whenever someone new appears.  You view the world with such utter exuberance, that it is impossible to be unhappy around you.

Until, of course, the storm clouds appear on your face.  Every once in awhile, something upsets you, or frustrates you, and you let the world know.  Your screams of anguish when you hear the dreaded, "No" could bring any trained soldier to his knees.  Your sad little pouty face, and the tears you squeeze out when you cannot express yourself fully break my heart.  Everything you do, you do it big.

Tonight, as I rocked you to sleep, I suddenly realized that your little body has long since outgrown my arms.  Sure, you can fold yourself up until you still fit perfectly on my chest, but when you decide to stretch, your head resting on my shoulder, your feet drape over my hips.  I laughed when I realized I now have to wear you like a Miss America sash, just so you will fit comfortably.

I could go on and on about your accomplishments, your amazing feats of athleticism and intellectualism combining to make you the most amazing toddler that ever lived.  But I already do that.  Every day, on this blog.

So, instead, I will leave you with this, my wonderful son:

I love you, all the way to the moon - 

and back.

Love,
Mommy

Silence is Golden

Except when you have a toddler.

First thing every morning, I sit in my chair, nursing a cup of coffee, and trying desperately to clear the cotton out of my head so I can function.  Many times, I'm trying to do this while Miles is awake.  Being the saintly child that he is, he usually just plays quietly.  When he's not so saintly, I resort to the television.  Because this mama?  Cannot function before coffee.

I'm not really certain when that started.  I used to be a morning person.  Really, I did.  I loved the morning.  Then, while I was pregnant, I redefined morning to mean anytime between 10 and noon.  Because I was exhausted.  Constantly.  Baby-building is a tiring process.  So, I started sleeping in.  A lot.  Then, Miles was born, and I learned to sleep when he slept (which was never, it seemed).  Morning became obsolete.  If I managed to get out of my pajamas before Patrick went to bed, I considered it a success.

Now, however, I have been blessed with this amazingly energetic toddler, who thinks that 7:00 am is sleeping in.  So, I started setting my alarm for 6:30, in an effort to down a cup of coffee before he woke up.  And then, Thursday, he woke up, screaming, two seconds after my alarm went off.  Somehow, waking up to screaming just makes my morning worse.  So, by 8:00 am, I was still slumped in my chair, slurping my second cup of coffee, and just trying to survive.  Miles was being saintly, and playing quietly.  Without the television.  I felt like a good mother.

Then, I realized he was too quiet.  Like, completely silent.  I peeked around, certain that the room would be destroyed.  Instead, I found Miles sitting very quietly.  I did a double take.  He was stark naked.  His diaper was lying in a heap about four feet away.  And he was industriously investigating the . . .toy he had discovered.

I couldn't help it.  I laughed.  A lot.  He looked up at me, startled.  Then, he grinned at my obvious delight and pointed as if to say, "Look, Mom!  Isn't it neat!"

I died.

Anyone know of a brand of diapers that closes with duct tape? :)

Battles & Blessings

Battles:

• Icky weather returned on Thursday.  I hate being stuck indoors.  I officially give the finger to Winter.  In the most lady-like way possible, of course.
• Teething.  Eye-teeth are coming in.  I am bracing myself, because these are supposed to be the worst.
• Busy, busy, busy.  We had things planned every.single.day this week.  It was tough finding time to do everything.  I have a feeling that it's only going to get worse from here.

Blessings:

• Patrick.  He took Miles out to the mall on Wednesday night, which allowed me some much-needed time to work on some projects.  I watched episodes of The Pretender.  It was glorious.  The end.
• Miles' rash went away!  He looked so much better.  And then, it came back, but not nearly as bad.  And it's going away again, so end result = Yay!!!
• Miles has been ultra-snuggly this week.  I love it.  And the crankiness that usually goes along with it has been fairly scarce.  So, even better!
• I have found a new assistant to help with my kids' performance group!  I met with her on Wednesday, and now I'm even more excited for our new season. :)
• A chance to perform this afternoon.  I am playing the Mock Turtle in an Alice in Wonderland Tea. :)

Friday Photos!

Chillin' with Daddy and Dominic, playing with a light.

Apparently, Miles is growing out of his baby bed.  I probably
ought to move him to a dresser drawer . . .*

Dragging his sled around as the last snow was melting.
This was apparently preferable to dragging it on the snow.

Using his toes as teethers.  Because apparently
the nine zillion teething toys he owns are insufficient,
apparently. <sigh>

*For the love of all that is holy, I am joking.**

**Gods of the Internet, please create a humor font.  And while you're at it, could you create a sarcasm font?  And maybe a weapon that allows me to slap people through the computer?  And, and, and, and, and . . . .

Haircut

Miles has had his second haircut, now.  It went . . . well enough, I suppose.  Once again, I trimmed it, this time in front of the television.  All was well until he turned his head at the exact wrong moment.  The back of his hair is a little (read: a lot) shorter than I intended, but it still looks good (read: it makes me crazy, but there's nothing I can do about it).  And, well . . . judge for yourself.  It's a little too close to being a bowl cut, for my taste, but <shrug> not bad for an amateur, I guess?

Ah, what the hell.  The kid is freakin' adorable, no matter how badly mommy butchers his haircut.  Especially with that mischievous little grin.

I Could Get Used to This . . .

Miles has always had a special love of the vacuum, which he calls the "Vrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."*  Usually, that means that he spends a ton of time chasing me around the room while I try desperately to sweep up the cereal crumbs.  After literally months of this, Patrick and I broke down and bought him his very own vacuum.

So far, he loves it.  And so do I.  He can now sweep up his own messes.  And he does.  And it is bliss.  The end.

Wait.  What do you mean he spends most of his time chasing the dog with it?  And the dog?  He barks at it.  Loudly

Oh, well, he's vacuuming.  Yeah, I could definitely get used to this. :)

* Add about 30 more seconds worth of "rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" after that, and that is close to what Miles calls the vacuum.