Letters to Isaac, Months 13 and 14

Dear Isaac,

Hey there, big boy.



Look at you! You’re huge! Only, not really. According to the growth charts you are still teeny; like eleventh percentile or something. At your one year check up our doctor tactfully told me that I shouldn't avoid feeding you more high calorie foods, like ice cream smothered in bacon drippings.



We’re working on it, buddy.

You are a funny eater, little man. You are like a camel. You will go for days on, like, a bread crust. Then very few weeks you will have a day where you eat so much we can’t believe you aren’t puking. And when you do eat, you are so dainty about it. You must have your little fork. I have actually seen you eat a peanut butter sandwich with a fork.

It’s funny, because in every other way you are such a boy. You love dirt, have no fear of picking up bugs; and were the first of my kids to play in the toilet. You generally have no interest in any activity that does not involve running at full tilt. Books? Puzzles? Meh. If you see anything vaguely round you delightedly scream “BALL!” and chuck it as hard as you can. You are so much happier now that you can run around and keep up with the girls. In fact, you were barely running before you discovered the joys of tackling. Be careful, buddy! They are still bigger than you! You and Isabel are starting to play together, though. It’s awesome. Your favorite game to play together is “Screaming Match”. Not Mommy’s favorite, as you can imagine. But I am so happy to see you two interact that I let it slide. I have a feeling I am going to be in trouble when you guys actively start teaming up.



And boy, are you talking all of a sudden. You say: mama, dada, Babell, no, mine, juice, shoes, ball, ni ni, bye bye, nanny, cheese and GG. We are working on getting you to say “Geeze”. Actually, we are working on just getting you to look Geeze in the eye or allow him to touch you.



You are definitely a shy little guy. There are only about five or six people who have really met you. These incidentally happen to be the five or six people that you see almost every single day. You are a biiiiiiig fan of your routine. I’ll never forget your reaction when we walked into our house after our recent trip to Philly. You were so happy to be home! You actually walked around the house in circles, touching things and chuckling.



You have the best little chuckle, buddy. I can’t tell you how much I love to see you smile. Or how wonderful it is to have a baby who voluntarily gives hugs and kisses! We are endlessly amused by your antics and blessed on a daily basis by your sweet, lovely nature. I love you, little miracle boy.



Love,
Mama

Letters to Isabel, Months 37 and 38

Dearest Isabel,

Boy, I seem to have fallen very behind on these letters. That did not take long, did it? We are having an awesome summer together. Honestly, we have just been having too much fun to sit down and blog about it. It is almost too fast, I wish I could put our lives in slow motion right now. It does not feel like there is enough time to properly soak in all the joy in our lives.

Your mama has always had trouble during times like these. When there is a crisis to deal with, I am The Prepared One. I know how to function, to get through things one day at a time. It seems counterintuitive to complain when things are going so great, and I am working really hard to just enjoy our life and not scramble around trying to figure out when the other shoe is going to drop.

You help me so much in this, dearest. Yesterday during the little kids’ naptime you were waiting impatiently for me to get done with my chores so that I could read you a story.

“Not now, honey.” I kept saying. “I’m just too busy”.

Then I remembered that I was supposed to be including you in the clean up process, to teach you about responsibility and ensure that you learned to take pride in accomplishing tasks which leads to a healthy self-esteem and blah blah blah. I turned to you dutifully.

“Isabel, can you be my biiiiiiig helping girl and pick up these toys?”
You glanced at me balefully from the sofa.
“Not now, Mommy. I’m just too busy!”

Touché, little one.

Eventually we finished our clean up and finally snuggled up on the couch together. You heaved a great big sigh and said,

“Ahhhhhhh! The best part of the day!”

I can’t begin to describe how that felt, and the sunshine that you bring into my life at the most unexpected moments. When I am tired, frustrated, feeling sorry for myself, ready to sell you to the gypsies; all it takes is one little sweet word from you, one unexpected kiss, to bring me to my knees with gratitude. And I know that I am not alone in this. You spread smiles like peanut butter, to anyone and everyone you meet. You are the friendliest little thing, and you looooove an audience. We recently took a trip to Philly to visit your Aunt Katie; and while we were there you took your first cab ride. You hopped in and immediately started bombarding the driver with your usual barrage of questions,

“Guy? Hey guy! Look at my new shoes, guy! They’re soo beauuutiful! Guy? We’re going to a fancy restaurant, guy! A faaaaaancy restaurant! Just like Fancy Nancy! Hey, guy, talk to me! Are you driving, guy? When are you gonna talk? When you stop driving. When you stoooooop driving you can talk to me, ok, guy? When you stop…”

This continued for 23 minutes. No joke. I don’t know how that driver managed it, but he did not look at you or acknowledge your existence once. You were flabbergasted. You had never met an adult that did not melt into putty with one bat of your eyelashes. This guy was not amused by you. Your Dad and Aunt Grace and I could not stop laughing.

You are constantly cracking us up. One of your favorite games begins with you running up to your Daddy and asking, “What do you eat for breakfast, Daddy?” His eyes will widen dramatically and he will answer, “I eat THREE YEAR OLD GIRLS!” He then will chase you around and pretend to gobble you up. A few weeks ago, in the midst of this game you screeched, “Don’t eat me Daddy! I’m too skinny!” Where do you come up with stuff?

Oh my goodness, I don’t know how I can cram in everything I want to remember about you at this stage in your life. The way you pretend to be a dinosaur. The way you tenderly mother your Duckie through imaginary illnesses. The way you bop your head and sing along to your favorite songs on the radio. The way your eyes widen when you are about to do something silly. How whenever I get stressed out or grumpy you pat me tenderly on the arm and say, “Don’t worry, Mommy. Everything will be all right.”

It’s more than all right, darling. It is wonderful.

Love,

Mama

Coming out of hibernation

To tell you about this:

http://drhorrible.com/

Oh. Em. Gee.

Joss Whedon. Nathan Fillion. Neal Patrick Hakfljseiofhzs kfhkjfo;ijfksdfnj iejhz;oifjdj

Sorry, petit mal excitement siezure. I'm fine. Seriously, I cannot wait for this. Check out the teaser and the "Master Plan". Take that, Show Business!

We call him "Scarface"

Dining room bench: 1
Isaac's face: 0

Those Who Are About to Rock

Ladies and Gentleman,

That is all.

In which I am anal retentive and also there is a flow chart

Most of you are aware of my obsession with Let's Dish! Yes, the exclamation point is part of the name. For those of you who are unenlightened, Let's Dish! is a once-a-month cooking store/service. That's the closest I can come to explaining it. Basically, you sign up for a session online. You choose a menu. Then you go to the store and they have stations set up where you can make up to 24 meals. They have all the ingredients chopped and prepped, and you just assemble them. You freeze the meals and just pop them out of the freezer throughout the month.

I love to cook. I love diving into a recipe, losing myself in the flow of it. I love looking at a pile of random ingredients and using them to create something new and unique. What I do not love is trying to do all of this while two or three very short people are using me as a jungle gym. So I have loved Let's Dish! You go in, cook your ass off for two or three hours, and you're done for the month.

Which is why I was so supremely bummed when my local Let's Dish! stopped offering in-store sessions. They still offer what they call Dish-and-Dash. They will assemble the meals for you, and all you have to do is pick them up. I have tried it a few times, but it wasn't the same. I like being able to leave the paprika out of a dish, or add an extra pinch of cumin. I like seeing what goes in to what I am serving.

So I have decided to take the leap and do some once-a-month cooking on my own. In typical Monkeysparkets fashion, I have excessively over planned. There are color-coded spreadsheets involved. I have sticker labels and a flowchart. You are jealous, people, don't try to hide it.

My sister, who recently expressed a desire to learn how to cook, came over today to help me chop stuff I mean...partake of my culinary genius. Here is our menu:

• Lemon Dill Salmon
• Vegetable Lasagna
• Mushroom chili with homemade French bread
• Grilled Barbecue chicken
• Balsamic Grilled Chicken with Roasted Red Peppers
• Chili Lime Grilled Chicken with Black Bean Salsa
• Prosciutto Wrapped Chicken with Garlic Herb Cheese
• Chicken Fajitas
• Pepper Beef Stir Fry
• Baked Beef Rotini

All together, we made thirty meals in just over five hours. So, that breaks down to a meal every ten minutes. And I won't have to cook for a month! Yee haw!

I will do a few things differently next time. I will definitely do my shopping the day before I cook so that I can get an earlier start. I also may try bi-weekly cooking, as 5 hours was a long time to be on my feet in the kitchen (and a long time for Mr. Monkeysparkets to have both of the kids). If you are interested, here a few sites with good tips and info on OAMC (ooh-acronyms!)

http://www.frugalmom.net/once_a_month_cooking.htm

http://www.once-a-month-cookingworld.com/

The Birthday Extravaganza

This weekend we celebrated the Sparkets family collective birthdays. All four of us have birthdays within four days of each other. Don't ask me how we managed that one, it was not a planned thing. And for all those of you who are counting backwards on your fingers

The first week of May - Nine months = August 16 (our wedding anniversary)

That may have been too much information for some of you. Sorry! Anyways, we had an awesome backyard barbecue, and now I have a touch of the post-party blahs. You know, where after a perfect perfect weekend everything else just seems a bit lackluster and without focus. I need something new to plan, dangit.

I was going to write a long detailed post describing the whole shebang, but it can really all be summed up by this picture:

Or maybe this one:

We are a family that likes our cupcakes. Even when they lead to the inevitable

Happy birthday, little sparkets. And Daddy Sparkets, too.

Letters to Isaac, Month 12

Dear Isaac,

Well, here you are, big boy! One year old.

We had a fantastic party for you and your sister this weekend. You were amazing. You handled the excitement like a champ. You especially liked the cake.



You have changed so much in the last month. A few of our relatives who hadn’t seen you since Easter did not even recognize you. You are losing that infant look and beginning to look like a kid. A couple of Mommy and Daddy’s college friends drove up for your party and brought their three month old baby girl with them. It was the first time in a while that I had held a baby younger than you and it really was really odd. I am used to you being the baby, and all of a sudden you…weren’t. I am excited and a teeny bit sad all at the same time.

In addition, you took your first real steps this weekend! Up until now you have mostly just been cruising the furniture. You would stand on your own until you realized what you were doing. Then you would get the same look on your face that Wile E. Coyote gets when he realizes that he has run off the edge of a cliff. Your arms would start wind milling cartoonishly, and down you would go.

The day before your birthday, your Granny came up to visit and she brought her dog. You were fascinated by his big fluffy tail. You took a step towards that tail, then stopped. We all waited for you to catapult over. You stayed up! The next day you decided you would take five or six steps in a row over at your Nanny’s house. Show off!

Some of your favorite activities these days include:

• Eating. You, child, are a bottomless pit. Your favorites are meat and bread. Last night for dinner you ate half of an adult-sized pork kebab, a big scoop of your aunt Kate’s yummy raw acorn squash salad, 3 big shrimp, half a banana and half a bowl of key lime mousse with whipped cream. We all totally expected you to yak. But you kept on banging your high chair tray and saying “umm-ma, umm-ma, umm-ma” which I believe translates to “More, more, more”.
  
  Incidentally, you are getting quite a vocabulary, little man. Your first word was Dada, of course. You followed it with Mama, No, Juice, and Down. I am amazed at all this as your sister rarely lets anyone get a word in edgewise.
  
  
  Other favorite activities:
  
  Conquering the backyard. Though seriously, buddy? Sticks are not snacks, okay?

And of course,

• Destroying the playroom
  
  

I wish I had a picture that truly captures the swath of destruction you leave in your wake. This is the best I could do. I especially love your triumphant howl.

You are a character, little man. I love you.



Love,
Mama

Letters to Isabel, Month 36

Dear Isabel,

Yesterday you turned three years old.

Three. Years. Old.

You are no longer a toddler. How the heck did that happen? It is weird that most of the time I can’t imagine you any way other than you are now.

I remember you being a baby, of course (how could I forget?) But those memories are not as vivid as they once were. Thinking of you as a baby seems…surreal maybe? It is very hard to put into words. But every now and then you will snuggle up to me and lay your head on my chest and I will get this very vivid déjà vu-ish moment where it seems like only yesterday that we slept in the rocking chair together every night because you hated your bed; that we spent most of our days pacing the living room floor or jiggling you over my knee to keep you from screaming loud enough to perforate an eardrum.

Now here you are. A preschooler. I have seen so many changes in you this month. Mostly in your ability to play with other kids your age. This is your friend Randy:

She comes over to play with you most days of the week now. You two get into all sorts of mischief together.

This was a rough transition for you at first, but after the first few weeks you really started to become more comfortable. You have made amazing strides. You still are not the most social kid on the block

But you really enjoy being with other kids now. It’s amazing to watch you grow and change.

Not that this time has been without its challenges. The addition of another kid to your space as well as the fact that your brother is becoming more mobile (read: more of a threat to your toys) has led to some lovely sibling rivalry. I will never forget the fist time I saw you sneak up behind your brother and shove him to the ground. I found myself in this odd inner mother-instinct dilemma. It is a horrible feeling to see one of your precious babies hurt another. Of course, once you realized what a spectacular reaction you could get out of me by pushing the baby, you started to do it more and more frequently. Time out was no deterrent. I spent about a week at my wit’s end.

Thank God for my wonderful Mommy friends. There is a group of us who meet once a week and they assured me that you weren’t a sociopath. In fact, most of them expressed surprise that it had taken you this long. They gave me some great advice, and a few days later we started this:

Ah, the precious marble jar. It is pretty simple. Good behavior earns a marble. Bad behavior costs a marble. After ten marbles, you earned your first prize, which was a talking Leo doll that you picked out. After 30 you will earn your next prize, which should be very soon. It has made a huge difference. You love earning prizes, but you also seem to love just earning a marble. This morning you walked up to Isaac as he sat on my lap and kissed him tenderly on the head. You looked at me and said, “I get a marble now! I’m going to get a green marble and make it go ‘chunk’ in my jar!”

Your dad and I are also working hard to make sure we give you more positive attention. All in all, things are going a lot better. We still have our rough days, but we are starting to settle into more of a routine. The weather is getting nice, and Nanny and Geeze got you guys the coolest thing for your birthdays:

You love it. I don’t know how often you are going to get to play with it. Because, honey? Your Mommy is a little neurotic when it comes to, well, dirt. And sand. And my carpet. And your hair. I basically don’t want to combine any of these things. Also your brother sees sand and thinks, “Lunch!” You guys played with your new toy for thirty minutes this morning and I think I had about three coronaries. I wish I could be more of a relaxed, lets-not-worry-about-the-mess Mommy; and I try. I really do. It is just…not in my nature.

This is one of the many reasons that I am so grateful for you, little one. Every day you take me out of my comfort zone. I am a better person for having known you these last three years. You’ve taught me how to cultivate patience when it seemed impossible to be patient, how to be at peace in the midst of chaos and how to laugh even when I am being sprinkled with bodily fluids. Happy birthday, honey.

Love,

Mama

Edit/Update

So the 24 hours spoken of in the last post actually occurred Sunday through Monday of this week. It actually took this long for me to type that sucker up.

Since then we had the exterminator come out and treat the mulch under the swing set, Isabel's ear infections are much better, and Isaac decided he wanted in on some of that sweet Amoxicillin action and came up with an ear infection of his very own.

Just in case you were wondering.

Sooooo

The last 24 hours have been a TOTAL SUCKFEST.

• Suck Number One: Last night right before dinner the eldest Sparkets child started complaining about her ears. "Shoot," we thought, "hope she doesn't have an ear infection." The complaining turned into screaming which turned into vomiting; at which point we thought, "Dang. Hope she doesnt have an alien hatchling in her head". At which point we took her to the ER.




• Suck Number Two: Turned out to be a double ear infection. Actually, that's not really a suck, given the alternatives. But I nearly punched the doctor when she told us that we hadn't really needed to bring her in on a weekend like this, next time maybe we should just give her some ibuprofrin and call our pediatrician on Monday. Excuse me, but did you not just watch this child scream herself into vomit-y hysterics? Do you realize that I rushed out of the house wearing pants that have a fist-sized hole in the crotch (hey, I was doing laundry!) DO NOT TELL ME THAT I AM OVER REACTING.

• Suck Number Three: So we are playing on the swingset this afternoon when I looked down to see a rather small mouse climb out of the mulch and begin to creep towards the sliding board. I am not overly afraid of mice; but I am a dainty woman-type, so normally I would have done something dainty and womanly like shriek and/or collapse on a chaize lounge. But there was something about this mouse that was...odd. So odd that I just stared at it for about 20 seconds incredulously.

That's when I realized. It was grey and fuzzy but it wasn't a mouse.

It was a freaking mouse sized spider.

Hoooooooly craaaaaaap.

I think I must have shot eight feet into the air like a cartoon character. I then swallowed my hysteria and ordered my two year old to "get Mommy a stick". After bringing me every twig in the yard, she finally came up with a decent weapon-sized stick whick I used to flip the monster out of the mulch onto a patch of dirt and impale it. It was a little something like this:

Then I cried like a big, blubbery baby and the kids stood around me, patting me on the back and saying, "It's OK, Mommy."

So, total suckfest, though looking back it could have been a lot worse.

Letters to Isaac, month 11

Dear Isaac,

I am a little late getting this letter out to you this month. As you know, we have been busy, busy, busy. And you have changed so much this month, I can hardly believe it.



Look at you, big boy! You are cruising! You pulled yourself up a few times last month, but this month you started doing it consistently. You are very pleased with yourself. And you have no fear. As long as you have your hand on a solid object, no matter how stable, you are cruising. You’re like Spiderman, creeping along the circumference of the room. You will be walking before you know it. Then your sister had better watch out.

She is really starting to warm up to you.



Well, most of the time. When she feels like it. But you two are starting to play together on a semi-regular basis and man, is that ever cute. Nobody makes you laugh quite like Isabel does. You are even beginning to copy the things she does. When she claps, you clap. When she says, “no!” you say, “nuh!” That pisses her off. He he he. You are starting to develop a saucy little personality, babe.



I am constantly amazed at how I can love anyone so much. Honestly, when your sister was born I wondered how I could possibly love any other human being as much as I loved her. Then you came along, and my heart just got bigger I guess, because there is just as much love there for you. And you are such a neat little guy. You are a chill kid, but you stand up for yourself when you need to. You already have this wry sense of humor. I can’t wait until you can talk and I can have a peek at what is going on in your little mind. You are still your Daddy’s spitting image, but every now and then lately you remind me a little of Geeze.



A couple of other firsts this month:

First Saint Patrick’s day:


First Easter egg hunt (and subsequent first Twix bar):

And first ear infection. I don’t have a picture of that. I was too busy obsessively jamming thermometers into every possible orifice of your body. Poor little dude. You ran a hundred-and-four-point-something temperature one night and scared the crud out of me. So for days I took your temperature like, every thirty minutes. You came through it like a champ, though. I’m proud of you, buddy.

Now, let’s talk about weaning. You are currently nursing anywhere from five to seven times a day, depending on how often I get up with you at night. Yikes. This is all totally my fault, of course. I have been horribly inconsistent with sleep training and, let’s face it, it takes two to tango. The other day I realized that you are going to be one in a few weeks and, yeesh, you are still nursing like a newborn. Maybe it’s because you were such a pleasant infant that I haven’t been in a rush to move you out of that stage. I sometimes want to put you in a pickle jar to keep you little, but at the same time I can’t wait to watch you grow. You are turning into a fantastic kid and I love a little more every day.

Love,
Mama

Letters to Isabel, Month 35

Dear Isabel,

Today you turn 35 months old. Well, technically you turned 35 months old last Tuesday, but we have been way too busy lately for me to get a chance to write this. We had two really fun holidays this month! Now that you are getting old enough to understand and anticipate holidays, I find I am enjoying them like I never have before.



We had a visit from the Leprechauns on Saint Patrick’s Day. They left green footprints all over the place and a special treat for you and your brother. We ate green eggs and ham and made shamrock crafts. Yours was a little abstract.

It basically consisted of you squeezing as much Elmer’s glue as possible out of the bottle before I took it from you and forced you to actually stick things onto your paper with it. Most of your crafts lately look like that. I have to feed my inner perfectionist a loooooot of Valium in order to avoid stifling your creativity. And boy, have you got some creativity.

You, child, are a glorious mess. How I love you for it. You have taught me how to take a deep breath and remind myself that finger-paint will eventually be cleaned up, but that the memories we are making will last forever. And you know what? You are fairly washable. Thank goodness.

Speaking of messes, can we talk about Easter? Oy.



I have many pictures of you looking very cute in your Easter clothes, but this one really sums up the holiday best. Coated inside and out with chocolate, buzzing hard on sugar, and wearing butterfly wings. We had a family party at Nanny’s house and man, did you have a lot of candy. Every adult there took nearly obscene delight in stuffing you full. I almost felt sorry for you. We took you home that afternoon and you curled up on your Dad’s shoulder and said, “Guys? I don’t think we should eat any more candy because it’s not very good for us.” Then I did feel sorry for you. I even threw out the candy you collected during the Easter egg hunt because, really, enough is enough.

All that being said, I hope you are ready to be spoiled rotten yet again in a few more weeks. That is right; the long-awaited birthday party is finally at hand. I may have begun preparing you for this a bit early. For the last month you have talked about little else. It has gotten to the point that any time you ask for anything and I say “no” you reply, “maybe for my birthday?”
It is going to be very fun, though. Hopefully I will be able to keep the sugar to a minimum. I may put the following picture on the fridge to remind myself what happens when you have too much of the white stuff.



Darling girl, it is hard to believe you are going to be three. I don’t know if I am ready. You sure are, though. You have the three-year-old debate skills down pat. For instance, not long ago you were busily jumping up and down when I thought I smelled an accident in your pull-up.

“Isabel”, I said sternly. “Come over here and let me change you.”

Without skipping a beat you bent down and scooped a plastic banana off the floor. You looked at me with the air of one who has the weight of immutable logic on her side. Still hopping, you raised your eyebrows and replied,

“Does a monkey get changed? Nooooo!”

I love you, little monkey, and can’t wait to see what next month brings us.



Love,
Mama

Brought to you by the letter "P"

I only have one item in my make up case that costs more than ten dollars. It's this:

That would be an M.A.C. blush brush. It may not seem like much of a splurge; but consider the fact that I will use the same goopy Wet 'n' Wild mascara for six months until BJ's runs a coupon for it. So a thirty dollar blush brush? Big splurge. But it makes my cheekbones look great.

So here's the scene. Bella is on the potty.

Her clothes are covered in green paint. "Baby Isaac and I are going upstairs for one minute to get you some clean clothes." I say sternly. "Do not get up off this potty."

Well. Those of you who have had an almost-three-year-old know that I may as well have said "Please get up off the potty and do the most disgusting thing imaginable while I am gone." Have you guessed yet? Forty five seconds later I returned to find her painting the bathroom walls with her own pee. Her choice of paintbrush?

I was actually so beyond repulsed and angry that I burst out laughing. Isabel, relieved, laughed as well. Then, before I could decide what to do with the monstrous mess in front of me, she solemnly sprinkled the baby and I with the pee, like a Catholic priest blessing the congregation with holy water.

To be fair, our lesson theme for the day was the letter "P". We made cute little toilet-paper-roll Piggies, hand print Penguins, Painted Pictures of Peacocks, and ate Pasta with Peas. So, I guess this seemed like a fitting end to the morning?

Thank you, God, for a sense of humor. And also for Clorox wipes.

Update update

Well, turned out to be an ear infection-a Sparkets family first. He is on antibiotics and seems much better. Unfortunately, three sleepless nights have caused me to revert to my alter ego, Insano-Mommy. I had hoped that we had seen the last of her, but she is back; refusing to put on make up or brush her hair, basically just walking around the house in circles and crying at the drop of hat. So if you stop by in the next day or so try not judge me by the pile of unfolded laundry on my couch. And whatever you do, don't drop your hat.

Update

Dear Isaac,

P.S. So I checked on you last night around ten pm and you were burning up. Your temperature was a hundred and four. Please please please please please do not do that to me ever again. I cannot take it. Plus, you did not very much enjoy being taken from your bed in the middle of the night and plunked into a sink full of tepid water. You are much better today, thank goodness, but that was a rough night. So, really, buddy. Let's not, OK?

Letters to Isaac, Month 10

Dear Isaac,

Today you turn 10 months old. I was not sure whether I was going to get this letter done today, as things have been pretty topsy-turvy around here lately. Yesterday you came down with a nasty fever, you poor thing. You have spent the last 24 hours lying on my lap like a sad, sad little slug. In addition, yesterday at nap time your big sister discovered the joys of…cue ominous drum roll…

Finger-painting. In case you couldn’t tell by the ominous drum-roll, the medium she chose was most definitely not made by Crayola. You get my drift. All of this has left your Mommy pretty tired and sitting on top of a truly heinous pile of laundry. But I digress.

So much has happened this month with you, I hardly know where to begin. You are crawling, little buddy! You still mainly stick to the belly-crawl, but you are getting up on those hands and knees more and more often. I expected you to be more excited about this newfound ability, but you are so enamored by the idea of walking that you don’t seem much to care.

You. Want. To. Run. You spend a lot of your day propped up against the couch or nearest adult, in love with the sensation of standing on your own two feet. You watch your sister with envious fascination as she thunders around the house. You are trying very hard to get the hang of pulling yourself up on the furniture. It will be soon, buddy, very soon. You even stand on your own for four to five seconds. You have already managed some pretty spectacular conks to your noggin.

It's hard to believe your birthday is in another two months. I have no idea what to get you. You haven't really expressed any strong preferences with regards to playthings. Actually, if I can find anything that makes you half as happy as an empty 20 ounce soda bottle, I'd feel pretty good.

You are still a totally laid back little dude. Really, you’re a happy kid. I have to tell you this because for some reason it is impossible to get a picture of you smiling. Whenever you see the camera, you get this little scowl on your face. You're like, "There she goes with that thing again."

I thought maybe if I put you in your favorite place, doing your absolutely favorite thing, I would be guaranteed a smiling picture. I mean, I have never seen you in your swing without a big smile on your face.

No such luck. And you have the sweetest little shy smile. The girls are already ga-ga for you. You are very friendly, but starting to show a little bit of separation anxiety, which is totally normal for your age.

This doesn’t help with the sleep training. What is up with your sleep patterns? For one whole week you slept nine hours in a row every night! Then you were like, “Psych!” We are making ground, though. No more nursing between the hours of 7pm and 4am. When you wake up during this time, your daddy goes in and calms you down. Hooray, Daddy!

Unless you are sick. Last night we hung out together in the rocking chair for most of the night, And that’s OK. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help you feel better, little man. I hope you kick this thing soon and can go back to being the regular little dynamo of action
you usually are. I love you so much little buddy, and look forward to seeing what you do next month!

Love,
Mama