Blast off!

One recent change is your ability to pretend.  Recently you’ve built a “boat for finding Jedi” out of a blanket (boat) and pillow (chair). You’ve ridden a pillow around the house – your “dinosaur”, and you’ve made sure it had enough water and took appropriate rest breaks. You put a plastic bucket over your head, wrapped yourself in a blanket and were thus an astronaut.

And you built a spaceship:

Happy journeys, little guy.

‘Twas the night before preschool

Minihammer,

Tonight, your dad had to work late. After Dench was in bed, you and I curled up on the sofa, ate a little dinner, drank chocolate milk, held hands and watched Star Wars. We made phone calls both real and pretend, we looked at pictures of anteaters because you wanted to know what one was, we got you ready for bed. I tucked you in, you counted down like you always do, I flicked off your light.

I do tend to be somewhat anxious, and at the end of most days I fret over things I didn’t manage to get done at work or at home, or both.  After I tucked you in and sat in the quiet house, I thought about how your dad and I are coming up on our four year anniversary and about the life we’re building together, and all the family we’ve gotten to see lately, and the family and friends who take care of us from afar, the big events like scary hospital stays and wonderful weekends in the mountains, and the small evenings spent dancing with you in the kitchen – and a sense of peace washed over me. Sometimes,when feeling lost amid all the chaos has become all too familiar, I have a night like this and realize we’re actually right where we are supposed to be.

Love,

Mom

Trio

I’m not sure what you all were thinking over, but clearly it required some serious attention.

Eventually you worked it out.

Two years, nine months

Minihammer,

Last month, your dad and I took you to your very first movie in the movie theater. Admittedly, you’re a bit young for this. I had no idea how it was going to go – would it be too loud? Too scary? Would you talk through the whole thing? Kick the seats? Throw a tantrum?

The reason we took you: Buzz Lightyear. It’s not like Pixar throws a Toy Story movie out all that often. This is probably the last one – and we felt like this was something you’d want to see in the theater. Also, and just in case I don’t already sound Older Than Dirt, the theater has a special meaning for me and I was kind of itching to share that with you.  I’ve spent a lot of time lamenting the lost art of the projector ticking over your head, the flicker of light dancing across the screen, all the things that you may never see. But I did want you to know that you got a bit of movie magic that was your own: you held our hand walking down the giant hallway, you clutched a bag of popcorn to you and settled in between your mom and dad in the seat so big your feet barely made it to the edge. You were absolutely captivated as the trailers started, breaking your eyes away only occasionally to ask “Toy Story?” or “What’s that?” And then the movie did start, and you were spellbound.

It was a wonderful day. We got to spend some alone time with you, which hasn’t happened often enough lately (and for that, I’m really sorry). We got to focus on just you and see you light up as your heroes took the stage. We got to hold your hand and swing you as we walked which you counted in your inexplicable twang “whaaaan, teeeoooooo, three!”

***

***

Given that I haven’t managed to write to you for several months, a lot of activities have come and gone. Way back in May, we took you on the light rail, because you love trains and it seemed like a good way to spend a Saturday morning.

You had your typical response to new things: you sat quietly and took it in, largely without comment or expression, and then as soon as it was over, you were bursting with enthusiasm for it. “THA TRAIN! I RODE THA TRAIN!”

You and I actually rode it again last weekend. This time you were visibly thrilled during the experience, and every time the doors opened, you yelled “all aboard!” We pointed out the tracks and the cars and the features of each station as we passed through.

***

You love baby Dench and your cousin baby J. When I show you pictures of your cousin, your voice hits new decibel levels as you call everyone over to look.

***

You’re getting to be a pro at using the phone. In fact, tonight you are spending the night at your Nana’s, and you said good night to me over the phone. Of course, when I asked if you were getting ready for bed you said no, it’s not dark out yet, so I’m hoping Nana isn’t having too tough an evening. It did make her (and me) laugh.

***

I’ve been sick the last few weeks, and in fact had to spend a little time in the hospital because the iron was suddenly and inexplicably absent from my blood. I missed you terribly and when I got back, I had to rest a lot. Sometimes when you were taking a break from playing, we’d sit together on the couch and catch a few episodes of The Clone Wars, which may not be the height of culture but is pretty much excellent for a nice relaxing sick day with your buddy.

***

I think the biggest change in you over the summer is your ability to sing. You can sing along to songs – it’s not exactly on key, and you’ll usually hit the key words only, but you do so with the gusto and volume of the truly uninhibited. It’s so fun to get to witness.

We’re having a great time this summer, Minihammer. We love you, infinite much.

Mom

Eight Months

Or: what’s up, Two Tooth?

Tonight (okay it was three weeks ago now) when your Grandma and Nana C and brother left for the night (he’s sleeping over there tonight), I waved, and they waved back, and then you, cradled in my arms, WAVED TOO. You wave! How exciting! We have contact!

More on what you learned since last time – you can now:

• Sit up.
• Army crawl. And fast.
• Say “Dadada” and I swear I heard you say “Where’s Daddy” but that might have just been the 5am haze talking. Heh.
• Pull yourself up to a standing position.
• Clap.

You have two teeth. I have to say, your teeth seem to be coming in in a far more orderly manner than your brother’s did. His came in so haphazardly that I was pretty sure he was going to be a snaggle toothed orthodontist’s dream (they are turning out okay, I think). You on the other hand have two matching front teeth on your bottom gum. I’ll get a picture sometime soon, I promise.

I’ve been working at a new job, and most of the time the juggling/balancing/whatever you want to call it is just fine, and sometimes it’s really hard to hold everything together when I just want to see your two little teeth and crinkly eyes and hear your laugh.

You have preferences in toys and food. You’re expressive. Your favorite thing in the world is hearing your brother laugh. Or maybe it’s playing with your toes. It’s a tie.

You are eating a lot. I weaned you over the past few weeks months and you’re completely on formula now. You’re starting to enjoy solids, finally.

I hesitate to even write this, but you are napping. Regularly. And without complaint. And while not superstitious part of me is feeling like I can just go ahead and kiss that goodbye right now.

You smell good. Even your breath smells good. Babies are awesome.

I love you, sweet baby girl.

Mom

Book club

Wildlife center

This place is nearby and makes for a good impromptu visit, particularly when the weather is chilly. One Saturday not too long ago you and I went on an outing there, just the two of us. And the statues of course.

You kept petting them and saying “so soft,” which makes me think our plan to get you an AIBO when you ask for a dog might actually work!

The sign for monkey.

It was a thrill to get outside for ten seconds before the cold wind chased us in to look at the exhibits.

We spent a lot of time in this interactive display area, because the giant animatronics in the quarter mile of dioramas really creep you out. You do like the fish tanks and submarine recreations though.

All in all I had a great day out with my buddy!

Six months

My Dench,

I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that one day, you show no signs of doing something (such as sitting up), and the next, you’re just casually sitting and looking around. You seem to take change in stride whereas I find myself doing a spit take half the time when you’re around.

This month you’ve been laughing more, rolling over, sitting up a bit, and trying to get up on your knees so you can crawl (!!!). You’re drooling like crazy which I keep thinking means teeth, but so far, it just means drool. And that’s fine.

You love to watch your brother play, you love to watch the cat do whatever it is cats do. You can play with your feet for long stretches of time without noticing anything else around you (they are pretty cute). Most of all you love to be held and chirp away in your sweet voice.

Oh, your smile just kills me. You light up and it really doesn’t matter what else is going on – I am yours.

Happy half-year, little one. I love you so.

Mom

Two and a half years

Oh Minihammer,

Every time I go to write one of these I think about what has changed since the last one. That gets increasingly challenging since you’ve hit most of the bit milestones in terms of first step, first word, first solid food, first “please” “thank you” “I love you” and “chewbacca”. Your changes these days are more subtle, really expansions on what is there already.  But that doesn’t make them any less fun.

I can’t believe you’ve been making us smile for two and a half years.

While you’re definitely an outgoing guy, you can also concentrate on a task  to the exclusion of everything else around you. This happens most often when you are constructing your rather elaborate trains.

Life as a city planner is tough. There are good times:

And there are disappointments:

But you bear with it nonetheless.

And you take breaks from your work. The weather is (sort of) getting warmer, so we’ve finally gotten outside more.

There are little things. When you want us to take you with us somewhere (upstairs, usually), you put your arms out and declare “come with me!”.  You often approach a situation with completely raised eyebrows. I’m not sure if you’re even aware you’re doing it but it’s mad cute. You still won’t go down slides without serious cajoling and overall seem to have a strongly developed sense of self-preservation. When faced with a new food you’ll say “try it! try it!”, then lick it, and invariably change your mind: “Mommy try it.” You think someone ducking behind an object and peering out at you is the highest form of comedy.

Before bed these days we have “calm down time”, which really consists of you bouncing off the walls shouting “talm down time! talm down TIIIIIIIEEEEEME!” and us trying to get you to bring the decibel level down enough to at least avoid waking your sister. We then attempt to get you to sit still with us and usually do something completely devoid of any educational value such as watch an episode of The Big Bang Theory – the theme song of which you like to sing along to at the end. You usually nod off and we carry you to bed. Dr. Ferber wouldn’t be particularly impressed, but it’s made for a nice little ritual for now.

We love you, kiddo, infinite much.

Mom

How she rolls

And then I blink and you’re halfway across the room.

Hello!

Edited to add: Your Nana points out that while you are rolling over, you have your eyes on that bike the whole time. Heh.