Jack at (nearly) 23 months

Dear Jack,

You are growing up so fast! I can't even believe how much you're learning, even when I do nothing more than let you play around the house and occasionally be brainwashed by cartoons. You are hard to mislead, that's for sure: if I try to hide something from you, you're sure to find it. You are a firm believer that my possessions should be carried with me at all times. If I leave my phone on the couch, you will bring it to me within seconds, saying, "Hold? Hold?" You'll also bring me both remotes and any glass of water I leave behind, even if only to get a snack or swap the laundry. You have learned to put all your shape puzzle pieces in the right places all by yourself, and I love to watch you concentrate on it and place the pieces so quickly. You will ask for food and then grab my hand, trying to pull me up off the couch. When that doesn't work, you'll try to push the laptop closed.

Yesterday I followed a pregnancy yoga video and you thought it was a great game. You would mimic my poses right under me, laughing and pressing your forhead into mine. For each standing pose, you would try to run between my legs, which did not work so well since you're taller than my legs are long, so I had to just forget the concept of balance. Not quite the peaceful experience I'd hoped for, but I should have known.

You absolutely and completely love me...you are a cuddlebug and must be touching me in some capacity in order to fall asleep. Your favorite way to fall alseep on me is to pull my shirt up and rest your head on my belly, which will be adorable when my stomach is the size of a hot air balloon.

Your hair is long, blonde, curly and wispy. You've only had one haircut and you're in dire need of another, but I love your curls so. After a bath, the back of your head is filled with a myriad of little ringlets and I fall in love with you all over again.

Jack, I love you! You make me so happy, keep me on my toes and teach me constantly about how to be a better mom. I'm sorry for the times I lose my temper or get frustrated with you. You don't really understand yet and I know that. I just want to be able to communicate fully with you, but I really am so grateful to cherish this time where your broken English is cute and permissible, your playtime is fully uninhibited and your smile lights up your face when you see me.

Words you often say: "Dee-doo" (thank you), "Mama!" (the exclamation point is very important here), "Mama-Da-ee" (your new name for Daddy...weird) or "Daa--ee" (Daddy), "huuuuuu-gny" (hungry), "nack" (snack), "wahn-wah" (sandwich), "nana" (banana), "nigh nigh" (night night--bedtime), "bat" (bath), "tee" (brush teeth), "nyo-ra-njjjje" (orange), "ki" (Caillou cartoon), "mnow" (milk), "crakrrr" (cracker), "tits" (cake...seriously), "shitties" (Goldfish crackers...supposed to be "fishies"), "beet-ah" (binky...pacifier), "tooooooo" (two...you have to have two crackers, two slices, two pieces), "may-oes" (tomatoes), "min-ya" (Mickey Mouse), "wah-saw" (raisins), "nuu-nuus" (noodles), "ow-sigh" (outside), "ing-sigh" (inside), "mooooo" (moon) and "watccccccchhhh" (wants to watch tv).

When you're angry, your first inclination is to throw something. This drives me absolutely nuts, because I don't know where you learned this from, but binkies, toys and food will sail across the room, accompanied by a growl of protest. I have not found an effective punishment for this yet.

You are impervious to spankings. You might cry, but it's more a cry of anger than anything else. More often than not you just grunt in my direction and do whatever it was one more time.

You love to eat cheese, bananas, cookies, graham crackers, Goldfish crackers, pb&j sandwiches, tomatoes and fruit popsicles. You will occasionally eat avacados, strawberries, oranges, apples, chicken, beans and tortillas. You love to drink any kind of juice (just like me) and milk. You also love soda and, in a brief but unfortunate not-taking-everything-with-us-when-we-leave-the-couch episode, beer.

You love to be chased, love to chase back, love to throw sand at poor Brownie (grrrr), love to play outside. You're inquisitive, hard-headed, extremely resilient and you open my eyes in a whole new way to the world around me.

I love you, I love you, I love you! You make my day complete, with your squishy face and your warm little hands. Even when Daddy and I are out on a "date," we think about you and talk about you constantly. Daddy loves you immesurably and he can't hide his excitement when he walks in the door and you run into his arms. You make us so proud and you're not even two yet!

I love you, little love, goober, punkin pie, monster mash. I love every minute of this journey, even if it whizzes by at such an incredible speed.

Love,
Mama!

They never told me it would be like this...

Life, that is. I don't even know who "they" are (but "they" seem to have an opinion about everything, don't they?). I have these moments or trends of self-reaization. I can trip myself out thinking about how people have lived their lives and died and I never knew them--entire lives spent without my apparent influence--which definitely starts making me realize how small and insignificant I am. Maybe not to those around me, but in light of the billions of people on this earth. My God is an awesome God just to get everyone's names right. I can't even remember what I ate two days ago or what I wore. Probably the same jeans.

But two days ago I subbed at Lancaster High, my alma mater. I graduated TEN years ago! I remember high school, but it doesn't feel like ten years ago, and yet it does. Just ten years is a milestone. I could go to a reunion, if there was one. I wouldn't, but I could.

[As a side note, I find it funny that every time I mention my age or how long ago I did something, I always get casual comments from Older People who tell me things like "Wait until it's been 30!" or "If YOU'RE old, then I must be ancient!" or "You don't know what age is, child!" There is always someone older out there. But I can experience joy and sorrow and amazement at my own life and how quickly it's passing. It is OH-KAY for me to do this, despite that I am ONLY 28, which is not an "ONLY" to me but a "REALLY????"]

Anyway, so I graduated ten years ago. That year, all the seniors had the opportunity to decorate a brick that would be attached to a concrete wall to make a mural of sorts. So I see my brick there, with my maiden name and it takes me way back. To anatomy class, cross country, an exboyfriend that (thankfully) dumped me two weeks before I graduated. [Don't pity me: the NEXT DAY I was introduced to John] All these parts of my life that felt like the entire world then and now are just a fraction of a percent of my life experience now.

And now I'm married and "babied" and while I am so happy, it doesn't feel like I thought it would. Not bad. Just different. Like I thought I'd become an "adult"--whatever I thought that would be. I'd feel responsible and be busy and dress different and feel mature. ...... Well, I'm busy. And I HAVE responsibilities, but I don't necessaryily FEEL responsible. Most of the time I'm shirking on some duty or the other. And I definitely don't feel mature. John may jokingly (?) tell me I am a "mature lady" but that's not what I mean. So it's foreign to me that I am cycling through these major stages of life without dramatically changing as I'd hoped/feared/expected.

So I don't really change dramatically as I go through life then? Not really. It's kind of like a new haircut I guess. New look, but still the same. Just a couple wrinkles here. A rogue grey hair there. A little muscle tone loss residual from birthing a giant. That weird bulging vein thing on the back of my hands when I let my arms hang at my sides that I marveled at my mom for. Good ol' cellulite. I think that's why life feels so foreign sometimes. I am essentially the same inside and yet my circumstances & body are so different than ten years ago.

What is different about your life now that you never expected?