The Muffin-2.5 years

Hooo, buddy. You are 2.5 years old now. You are in size 4-5T clothing and are full of energy. We recently weaned you off your binkie (you called it your see-see) and you have been non-stop talking ever since. Though the talking has mainly been about superheroes and play fighting. There are some days I yearn for my snuggly binkie baby who doesn't attack me with swords and sticks.

You are tons of fun to be around and, like your sister, are genuinely funny. You two love each other hard and I hope you will always look out for each other as you do now.

You have more hair than any human I have ever seen. I originally thought you just had a big head, but after reassessing, I think you have a slightly above-average sized head with an impossible amount of hair.

You love tools and to help. Every time you see me or your Dad walking somewhere, you say "Help you?" and are always willing to carry something or operate hand tools in a questionable manner.

You are over your fears of rides and loud noises. Now you seem to prefer loud noises and are often the source of them. You rode rides probably not appropriate for a 2.5 year old, but thanks to your size, you got past the carnies and seemed to enjoy yourself.

You are a picky eater. Somehow even pickier than your sister. We call you "the muffin" or "muffinator" because muffins are your food of choice, though really any carb/bread will do. There is no doubt you are my child.

To me, you are the cutest boy human alive.

Twenty years from now I want to remember how you say "of course" any time someone asks you a yes/no question ("John, can you come here?" Of course!), how you say "oh Right!" any time someone tells you something you feel might be even somewhat obvious, how you LOVE ninja turtles and superheroes even though you have only seen brief snippets on TV, how you wake up and immediately demand breakfast (preferably in muffin form), and how much you love your Dad, but how you are warming up to me every day. I love your sweet face and your "hulk hugs" and am so thankful every day I get to be your mom.

I love you, sweet boy,

Mom 

Busted

She fell out of bed on Saturday night. It was about 11pm and I had just dozed off after downing some Benadryl to help with a nasty bug bite on my leg. I didn't think it was anything major until I saw her blood soaked pillowcase. Stifled screams to Rick to wake up and meet me in the bathroom to assess the damage. There was no discussion, this would require stitches, it was just a matter of where.

Options are limited at 11 on a Saturday night and nothing will rouse you from a Benadryl haze like a blood-soaked 5 year old. So off to the hospital Annie and I raced while John slept through the whole thing and Rick was left behind for CSI cleanup efforts (apparently "how to get blood stains out" was googled before we were even out of the driveway).

We arrived at the hospital and Annie knew stitches were likely on the agenda and was inconsolable, verging on going into shock. Strong drugs were administered to ease the pain, but probably more so to ease her heart, which was really scared. Once those kicked in, she was totally fine. Stitches are a breeze when you can't feel your face. A week without swimming in the hot St. Louis summer is a worse fate than the stitches themselves. But we will make it through.

And now I can cross "stitches" off my list of mandatory parenting experiences. While I knew it would like happen eventually, I really can't believe it was Annie and not John.  

Five

Dear Annie,

You turned five a week ago today (when I first started this post, now it's over a month). It still seems odd to me because I can feel the weight of your baby body in my arms and occasionally get a hint of your baby morning breath as I carry you down the stairs in the morning. But, you are moving further and further away from being my baby. You no longer have baby fat, your legs have muscles and your arms are strong. But you still have a slight lisp with your "s" and "th" sounds, and for this I am eternally thankful, because it makes you still seem just a little bit little.

You are bright and happy and so, so, so incredibly sweet. You are aware of everything and everyone around you. If there is a child that is unattended, you immediately start looking for their mommy. If someone is crying, you try your best to take care of them and right any perceived wrong. You are funny and generous and wise and generally all the things I have always prayed you would be.

You are what teachers would call "active". No sitting still for long periods of time. I still haven't mastered sit down dinners with you, but we do our best. Mostly, you spend dinner tending to John's random needs, which is also very sweet. You are a wonderful big sister. You love to hold your brother's hand and were delighted the first time he said "I yuh you, Ahnnnie" (I love you, Annie). You cry when he is punished in any way (mostly when we have to take away his beloved Ninja Turtles toothbrush/sword) and always do your best to keep him out of trouble. You have even veered off from your interest in princesses to take part in his superhero play from time to time.

You are a true people person. Even strangers will remark on how happy and friendly you are and in an odd development, they will occasionally give you things for free. It has become not unusual for you to get a free dessert at a restaurant or, as was in the case in Miami, for the bartender (yes, we were sitting at a bar, don't judge, but it was a daiquiri bar, so it hardly counts) to hand you an entire bowl of strawberries when he noticed you were eating everyone else's.

You are John still share a room and your beds are about 18 inches apart. And while you talk of wanting your own room, I know you love being close to him. Every night we play "Princesses and Superheroes" where someone has a princess or superhero in their head and the others try to guess which one. You still love to have your back tickled and are an aggressive snuggler. You are afraid there's a monster in your closet and don't like us to close the door to your room when you sleep, but often blame it on John needing the extra light.

Twenty years from now I want to remember how you say "Is I'm" instead of "Am I", how you optimistically ask for candy every morning, how you love to draw and play with play-doh, how there's no hiding anything from you any more and you want us to "tell me the truth, really", how you always refer to God with female pronouns, how you just now started playing with your Barbies and love throwing parties for them and getting your new Barbie house just right, only for John to wreck it. And though I get frustrated when you say you need me for things that I know in my heart you can really do on your own, I need to remember that there will come a time when you don't call out for me any more. Regardless of if it is today or thirty years from now, I will all ways come when you need me.


I love you, sweet girl,
Mom