Things I Learned in 2014

I learned, once again, that moving is beyond stressful. Clearly, I block it from my memory.
Power tools are awesome.  Having some one that appreciates my love of power tools and buys me them is even more awesome.
Mom's stories get longer and longer with each telling.
Making the jump from a family of 2, to a family of 6 has had its challenges but nothing that I wouldn't want to do over and over again.
I take a lot of pride in how far our home has come and relish in my new projects to make it even better.
I learned that I am very Type A with our finances.  I am so grateful that John trust me with his money so I can handle everything.  It would drive me nuts not knowing.

I don't think it mattered how we got engaged, all that mattered was that it was John.  He was the one that made it perfect. Even down to his excitement over continental breakfast.
I am still a little disappointed that Lizzy chickened out for our sister tattoos and I am way proud of Rebecca.  I would have bet money that it would have been the other way around.
Shooting sheet is harder then it looks but also way funner.
I will be forever grateful that all of our children get along as well as they do.  Our mini-miracle.
I am a perfectionist.  If I am going to complete a project myself, I will watch YouTube videos until I can get it absolutely perfect.
Work has been stressful this year. It is amazing how that stress can hang with me even after I have left the building.

The Audi is still amazing. I would buy it 12 times over if I could.  I am so cheap on so many things but this is one thing I am so glad I didn't cheap out on.
John is terrible at picking out movies, I have just grown to ignore his recommendations.
Its the little things, like coming home to a clean house and the lawn mowed, that makes a world of difference to me.
The flu sucks but I still refuse to get a flu shot even though I have gotten sick 2 years in a row.  Stubborn much.
I learned that I actually enjoy gardening.  Who knew?!  I guess the apple didn't fall very far.
Watching your child struggle - with anything - is one of the hardest parts of parenting.

I love going out but family happy hour at Walls always seems to be my favorite.
The older Lizzy gets the stronger our relationship is.  Considering I hated her when she was first born we will most likely be inseparable in a few years.
Trying on a wedding dress for the first time was a terrifying and anxious experience.  It is not that I have doubts, its just that I don't really think I ever thought I would get married.
Every time I have my mother over she rearranges my pillows and throws.  I have learned to just let her do it.
I learned that the one time I have been compelled to curse at John was over snot filled towels.  It could have been worse, way worse.
The great generosity of others surprised and overwhelmed me this year (Really. Some one is letting us borrow their HOUSE).  I would like to focus on being more generous to people not in my family this year. 

I learned that it is monumentally important to make time for our date nights.  Reestablishing, grounding and relishing in 'just us' in our mostly chaotic life has given our relationship a tremendous amount of strength.
Passing on traditions and watching those traditions take root are the stuff memories are made of.
There's not much a bottle of wine, a warm house, a string cheese, a jigsaw puzzle, and some sisters can't fix.
I am a saver and I enjoy saving.  I like being able to pay things off in full right away.
Rebecca is already the most amazing bridesmaid ever, from dress shopping, to meticulous invitation overhaul, to surprise engagement parties, this girl is going to out do herself in 2015.
My heart is much bigger than I even realized.

I have begun to understand and emulate my parents unfaltering desire to give and support their children no matter how many speeding tickets they get.  (Ahem, Lizzy, ahem.)
My dad is still the best baseball coach out there.  Wyatt is so lucky to have him.
My Christmas Santa wrapping is over the top but seeing all of their faces makes it so worth the effort. (I do brown craft paper with tons of colorful bows.  Even on stockings.)
I am looking forward to being a stepmom. Even if it is just to rid the world of Disney stereotypes.
My favorite time of day is still putting Wyatt to bed.  The routine might be different now from several years ago, but he still reverts to that snuggly baby I miss.
2015 is looking to be one of the best years yet.

Things I Learned in 2013

I learned that most of the time my parents have been right.  This was an incredibly painful realization to make.  I am not saying they are right all the time (HELL NO) but they did get it right more often then I am prepared to admit to.

Having a home is a never ending battle of Home Depot runs on Saturdays.

The older I get the more secure of myself I am.

I will never get this parenting thing down.  Just when I think I have it right, Wyatt changes and grows.
Kindergarten is nothing like I remembered it to be.
Its true.  When you know, you just know.  Without any force or effort.  Its just there.

The best Aunt fight of 2013 was inconclusive.  Let's see how they do in 2014.
I will forever burn popcorn.  Its just a thing.
I still go to therapy but friend therapy seems to be just as needed and just as good.
I still think of Faetra all the time.  I hope I always do.  I have adopted a 'What Would Faetra Do?' mentality to force me to think like her just a little more.  Make me live a little more fearlessly.
Watching any 5 year old play any sport is endlessly amusing.
I'll admit it, I kinda like the Legos.  Its like a jigsaw puzzle for me.  I like when things fit nicely together.

Creating new traditions for my little family has been the most surprising joy of parenting.
Sonos and Songza changed my life.
Turns out I am a kid person.
I might make fun of her mercilessly but I am endlessly proud of my mom.  I honestly can attribute most of what I know to her.
I love my home but it feels empty without Wyatt in it.  Its like I'm lost. Goes to show how much a part of me he is.
Finding the right person and being with the right person is the answer to most things.

My home still smells like my Nana from time to time.  I don't know why and its usually after we haven't been home in a while.  It is oddly comforting and a gentle reminder to appreciate the history in these walls.
I always try to make my time away from Wyatt productive but there is something utterly glorifying about being able to sleep late.
I am becoming more and more like my parents.  Demanding everyone come to Christmas Eve mass was like having my Dad take over my voice for a few minutes.
Cards Against Humanity can make me laugh until I cry.
I am addicted to live music.  Any time, any where.
To date Wyatt has traveled with me to: Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Maryland, North Carolina, California, Colorado, New Hampshire, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Florida, all over New York, and most recently Texas.  Kid is well traveled already. Maybe out of the country next?

I enjoy spending time with my family.  Ain't no shame in that.
Sometimes all the heartache makes sense.  Its all just preparation for the real deal.
The Audi.  My God, the Audi.  So outlandish.  So amazing.  6 months later and I'm still waiting for the buyers remorse to kick in.
Spying on Wyatt in Ski School was beyond worth looking creepy for.
Unsuccessfully spying on Wyatt on his first day of kindergarten was definitely creepy.
I always knew the homeownership was hard but I don't think I was physically prepared for the seasonally drudgery.

I have much more love in my heart then I could have ever dreamed of.
I learned that the top 3 things that I am most grateful for this year: was meeting John, our new home, and Wyatt and our ever-suportive, loving family.  Makes you realize whats really important.
The Star Wars obsession is getting a little out of control. I mean really.
Sometimes the best things happen when you're not looking.
When it comes to my son, I am fiercely loyal, beyond proud, and so filled with love.  He continues to be the best part of me and the most amazing source of joy and pride.
Despite its slightly rough beginning, 2013 turned out to be one for the record books.  I can't wait to see what 2014 holds for us.

The Day's To-Do-List

mtn jam

I dropped Wyatt off at school at 9am on Friday.  He seemed barely phased that I was leaving.  Even told his teachers "Momma's going camping.  But its not for kids camping."  They both looked at me with raised eyebrows.  One of them told me to "Be good!  Have fun!" on my way out, like I was an 18 year old.  Wyatt gave me a hug and turned away.  I think I expected it to be more ceremonious. I wanted to linger. Give him another extra long hug but I forced myself to turn and walk away.  The bigger my fuss, the bigger his fuss.  I kept on thinking of going back but thought better of it.  My therapist was convinced I was going to cry but I didn't.  Go me.  As I pulled away, I took a deep breath and put him in the back of my mind.  He was in excellent hands.  They would call me if there was a problem.  "Just relax" I told myself.  "Have fun. You deserve a good break every 5 years."

By 3pm, we were unpacking our tent and gear with a cold beer in our hands.  By 6pm, we were listening to Gary Clark Jr, then the Roots and Gov't Mule.  It rained a lot but that's what rain gear is for.  What's the point of being a dirty hippie all weekend if there's no mud!?  And there definitely were some hippies.  Where do they live all the time?  Or are they bankers and lawyers that break out their mexican poncho's, Birkenstocks, joints and dreads on the weekends?  I can't remember the last time I saw that many dreads.  There were these bunch of (gorgeous) girls who were quite proficient in the hulu-hoop.  Where does one go to learn that?  Are there classes?  Do-it-yourself DVD's you can watch at home?  Seriously, they were REALLY good.

On Saturday, we woke up early and then I took a nap before we went down to the concerts.  Like a legit nap, people.  We were drinking with lunch and I decided to lay down for a while.  Because I could.  Because I didn't have to worry about anyone but myself.  I can't even describe how cool that feeling was. Poop when I want to.  Sleep when I want to.  Eat when I feel hungry.  It has been 5 years which I think why it was such a novel experience.  Don't get me wrong, I love Wyatt.  I love my life.  I wouldn't change anything but having this little respite, a little chance just to be myself for a while was liberating, enlightening, refreshing.

First up was Zach Deputy, then my lovely nap, then The Word, Givers, and Ben Folds Five.  I love Ben Folds Five. For years. I would have gone just to see them.  They were amazing.  Literally, I almost peed in my pants (like only a true mother can) when they started playing "Kate".  Best moment ever.  Jen said that normally I am 95% happy but when I was there I was 167% happy.  If I was like that all the time she wouldn't be my friend.  I told her I probably wouldn't be my friend either.  We drank a lot.  We danced a lot.  We ate a lot. My phone ran out of battery on Saturday night and I left it until Sunday afternoon. It might not seem like a big deal but for me its huge.  I am not attached to my phone but when I am away from Wyatt, I am.

We packed up Sunday morning, planning on cleaning up camp then catching some more concerts and heading home around 7ish.  We caught Trombone Shorty (hello first seat trombone in HS), the Carolina Chocolate Drops (who played cow bones and washboards), Tedeshi Trucks Band, Dawes and some of Michael Franti. I loved Dawes but I kept finding myself looking at my watch.  Was their set going to be over soon?  When are we starting our ride home?  It had nothing to do with the rain and everything to do with getting to see Wyatt before he went to sleep.

Wyatt was asleep when I got home.  But he was just the same as I had left him; safe, happy and loved. Mom said he had one brief moment where he was upset during a thunderstorm and was concerned that momma was camping but smooth sailing otherwise.  He smiled and hugged me in the morning.  I am so grateful and happy that I got that time but I was just as happy to come home.

Conferencing

Terry and I had Wyatt's first parent teacher conference the other day.  I wasn't nervous.  Just apprehensive, I guess.  I know Wyatt is very smart.  His vocabulary is amazing and he makes quick connections.  I know he is a good kid.  They have told me about one incident when he got angry and pushed a little girl on the playground.  They said he admitted to it immediately and then was crying and so upset about it that they felt bad punishing him.  He was punishing himself far worse then their time out would.  I know he flaps his arms, jumps and rubs his hands when he gets excited but only when he gets excited.  It is like his excitement cannot be contained and spills out through his entire body. I know he can't pronounce certain words.  But others like carburetor, amphibious, frustrated or sea anemone, he can say perfectly and in context.  I know he sometimes has trouble concentrating on things he doesn't want to do.  He can sit for hours, explicitly following Lego directions, but has trouble sitting still while eating dinner for 5 minutes.

I know all of these things about my son but my worst fear was they were going to tell me something I didn't know.  Something that I wasn't aware of.  Something that I didn't know to look for or be concerned about.  His inability to pronounce L's is endearing, not concerning.  His attention span is classic 4 year old boy, nothing to worry about.  His flapping makes me want to hug the child till he pukes, not an early sign of something bigger.  His excitement around other kids is because he is an only child, not because he is anti-social.

I love Wyatt's teachers.  I respect them.  They are with Wyatt 9 hours a week.  I value their opinion.  I appreciate that they have more experience with younger kids then I do.  But it is also hard to hear someone else talk about your kid.

Most of what they said was positive.  No surprises.  They did mention a few things that I was concerned about myself.  They think his L's will mature with time.  And his stammer, when he is trying to find the right word, is from excitement and nothing more.  He could use with some more interaction with other kids, but I know that.  Hence the two story-times, soccer, YMCA class, and of course the East Ave summer camp that will be starting shortly. We will keep working on his letters and numbers, his penmanship, his concentration.  But they were quick to remind me that even as adults things that interest us hold our attention for longer.  Basically, they confirmed what I already knew; that Wyatt is a pretty amazing kid and I couldn't be prouder.

The Par-Tay!

I rented out the YMCA for Wyatt's big party.  He was so excited about it.  He pretty much invited every kid he came in contact with. Someone at the library, another boy at Home Depot.  At one point he said that no girls were allowed to come but, thankfully, changed his mind.  He wanted a Lego Party. However, I was confidant that not all his friends were as proficient as he is.  So I betted on something everyone could enjoy - the gym a the Y then really hammed it up in the party room and favor boxes.  I think pictures will tell it better.

Wyatt's Lego cake.  I probably could have make it better working with fondant.  But fondant terrifies me.  And since I didn't start on the cake until Friday night, 2 beers in, I decided not to mess with anything new. When Wyatt saw it he exclaimed "Mom!  You're amazing!"  Best. Reaction. Ever.

 The table for the kids in the party room.  Complete with Happy Birthday spelled with Lego Duplo bricks on the mantle.  Not sure if you can really see it, but Wyatt and I wrapped the juice boxes to look like bricks too.  Mom made this Ah-Maze-Ing Lego Minifigure cut out box.  She attempted to take all the kids pictures in the box for the thank you cards.  Some kids were into it, other could care less.  

Wyatt, obviously, thought it was awesome.  So worth it.

This was the cake table.  I also made these chocolate covered marshmallow Lego head pops.  They were super easy and I had a ton of fun making the faces.  There are a lot with varying degrees of facial hair, Harry Potter, handle bar mustaches, and of course one with a Mike Tyson facial tattoo.  We made them for his class on Wednesday too.  Everyone was duly impressed. The boxes in the background are the favor boxes that Wyatt decorated with his Lego stickers. 

Wyatt was really into this.  We spent a good amount of time taking old broken crayons and melting them then pouring them into a Minifigure ice cube tray.  We made a ton of colors and each kid got a set of 5 in their favor boxes. Plus, it was a good activity for Wy and I.  We had some really good chats while unwrapping crayons. I also made a mini coloring book to go with them.  I was mildly nervous that some kid was going to think they were chocolate. 

The staff at the Y were totally amazing.  They kept the kids active and engaged for the whole hour, pulling out new stuff, organizing races, twisting Wyatt up in the parachute.  It was all really cute and was so worth it being able to watch him enjoying his day rather then trying to organize everything. Becca dressed Wy in this totally adorable outfit.  Once Wyatt got running, it was all over.  He kept running up to me saying "I'm sweaty." Then taking off another layer of clothing.  I finally had to tell him there was nothing left to take off.

 Everyone had a great time.  Especially Wyatt.  When it was time for cake, he ran into the other room then immediately asked to go back into the gym.  Kid loves his cake so that is definitely saying something.

I love this picture for 800 reasons.  First, the girl (Sophia) on the left!  Oh my God she is astonished.  Because it took Wyatt astonishingly long to blow out those 5 little candles.  And he got astonishingly close to burning off all his eyebrows.  Don't you want to go there?  Just live your entire life in this photo?

I am so happy that I had the opportunity to make him this happy. Happy Birthday, my love.

Time-Out

Wyatt and I have been having some problems.  I have mentioned this before.  About his refusal to listen.  His sometimes dreadful sharing skills.  His willingness to push my last button.  His talking back.  And of course his repeated use of that God Awful word: no.  In response, I have added the time-out chair.  Which worked for about 2 minutes.  He simply doesn't care.  It's not incentive enough for him to quit his bad behaviour.  He will give himself time-outs when he is being extra crabby.  On my next attempt, I decided to take away toys.  I would give him 2 warnings and on the 3 he gets something taken away and put on the top of the fridge.  He can get them back if he has an extra good day.  I still do that sometimes but it is only really effective when I can take something away immediately.  It doesn't work if we are out.  By the time we make it home, he is usually better behaved and has forgotten all about the incident.

Then we hit an impasse.  Drew, Wyatt and I were out to dinner.  For whatever reason, Wyatt was not having it.  He is always amazing so I guess he is allowed a bad day occasionally.  He asked to go to the bathroom about 3 times simply because he was bored.  Then he was running up and down the handicap ramp.  He refused to listen when our food came out.  Didn't eat one bite.  I tried all my tricks.  Nothing worked.  Finally, I asked him to sit down or we were going to leave.  He smirked at me and started walking backwards.  I looked at Drew, told him I was sorry but I had to grab Wyatt and run.  That Wyatt was testing me and I needed to act.  Could he please grab the check and meet us in the car?  As soon as I reached Wyatt he started screaming.  He was upset, I was upset.  As I was struggling to put him in his car seat and my face was inches from his, he reared back and slapped me.  Right. Across. My. Face.  I lost it.  It was the last straw.  Hitting is absolutely unacceptable.  Where did he even learn something like that?  I was screaming.  Wyatt was hysterical.  By the time Drew got into the car, no one was talking.  I couldn't even breathe, I was so upset.

After calling Jen, Kari, and chatting with Mom, I came up with another plan.  Obviously the time-out chair did not work, neither was taking away toys.  What about trying something I haven't done?  Why not reward positive behaviour instead of punishing bad?  (Totally Jen's idea. Give credit where credit's due.  She doesn't even have kids yet...brilliant)  Of course, Wyatt will always respond better to the things he is doing right.  So, I came up with this system. If he has a good day (see: sharing well, listening to his momma, cleaning up, etc) he gets a gold star for the day.  When he reaches 10 gold stars he gets a gift or an adventure, pretty much whatever he chooses.  Its his day.  Gammy bought this school bus chart and I put it by his bed.  Every night we go over why it was a gold star day or why it wasn't.  If he starts acting up all I have to say is "I'm not sure its going to be a gold star day, or, that's not really gold star behavior." And he usually stops.

This has been for about 3 months now.  I am not terribly consistant, which is a problem.  There are nights when we get home late or he's really tired that we don't put stars on.  But for the first month, it was religion.  And his behaviour changed.  He has been amazing.  There was one day that he was really upset and he turned to me with hand raised ready to hit me.  I grabed his wrist, got down on my knees, and said "Think about what you are doing right now.  Are you sure you want to do that?"  And he stopped.  That was the last time he tried to hit me.

For his first 10 stars, he asked to go to Toys R Us.  He tried riding every training wheeled bike in the store.  I was convinced that he was going to ask for another bike.  I said he had $50.  He ended up picking out this tow truck for $20.  That's what he wanted.  His second 10 stars, we went to Chuck E Cheese.  Mom told him that when he gets to 100 stars, we'll go to LegoLand.  At the rate he is going we will be there by Christmas.

Big Boy Bed

Drum roll please..... Wyatt has been officially moved into his big boy bed in his big boy room for a solid two weeks already!!  Most of you know that I have been trying to make this transition for a while but honestly didn't really know how to do it.  My room (our room until recently) is on the first floor.  Wyatt's new room (formerly Rebecca's room) is on the second floor.  It is kind of weird having him on a different floor.  He's so far away.  What if I don't hear him and he sleep stumbles down the stairs?  What if he keeps Mom and Dad up all night?  What if the entire thing is a nightmare and just delays the process even further?

So, I didn't push it.  We talked about him moving to the room upstairs.  We picked out a comforter together and I got it for him for Christmas.  We talked about painting the room.  We bought curtains.  I am painting these cute canvases for him that he picks out the colors for.  I bought these adorable truck wall stickers that we decorated his room with.  Then one night he grabbed his blanket and binky and headed upstairs to sleep in his "big boy room".  I rolled with it, even though the room wasn't entirely ready.  I wasn't entirely ready.  He has been up there ever since.  And has even had several nights, from 9pm to 8am completely by himself.  No calling for me.  No leaving his bed.  Only the rustling of sheets as he rolls over.

There have been minor setbacks.  Very, very minor.  First, he does call for me.  Usually around 3am.  At which point, I am exhausted and usually end up falling back asleep in his bed.  I don't really think this is a big deal because at least he is STAYING in his room.  He does not wander around in the middle of the night.  And when I don't fall asleep and go back downstairs, he's fine.  Just needs to get tucked back in, a few kisses, and he's back sleeping.  Second, he doesn't really nap anymore except if he's not feeling well or if he is really wiped out.  On the few occasions that he does nap, he's asked to sleep in my bed.  Again, not really a huge problem because I don't foresee him napping for much longer.  Third, there has been lots of bed hopping.  Sometimes I sleep in the third bedroom upstairs to be closer to Wy, most of the time I'm downstairs.  When Rebecca comes home there are less beds.  I am thinking about getting a futon in Wyatt's room just for some added bed space and maybe some added cool couch factor for his friends.  God knows he loves showing off his new room.

It has been amazing.  He has been amazing.  I am shocked.  I expected it to be so hard.  After reading all these child sleep books, I expected to be sleeping on the floor for months while he got adjusted. I guess he was just ready.  He loves it up there.  He has so easily made the switch.  I, however, am not doing as well.  I wake up a lot wondering where I am or where Wyatt is.  I have had a really hard time adjusting to sleeping by myself.  I can't seem to get comfortable.  And I definitely cannot sleep through the night.  In fact, a lot of times, it takes all my will power not to run up the stairs and go cuddle with the boy.  Ah, how the tables have turned!

A Place Between Sheer Glee and Sheer Panic

One of my best friends from 3.

The Playgroup at St. John's is a weird enigma of a place for me.  Wyatt LOVES it there but sometimes I think that he would love school anywhere.  He is a very social person.  A kid that wants to play all the time and has an elaborate imagination that only other kids can follow.  But for me, I can't really shake the assumption that I am the hired help.  I work there.  So, while the other parents are caught up talking and making connections with each other, I am talking to the teachers about whichever new problem has arose.  It has made it hard for me to make connections and establish some kind of social circle for Wyatt.  I know he's only 3 (!!) but some of my best friends were made at 3.  After making my bold New Years resolution, I decided to just go for it.

Wyatt has several boys that he speaks of fairly often from school (and one girl, Davis.  It might be love.  Or it might be because she has got that devilish twinkle in her eye and gets scolded a lot).  So, I sought out Chases' mom and asked to get the boys together.  When she said yes and to come over to their house after class, I had two distinct reactions.  Sheer glee and sheer panic.  I was so excited for Wyatt and just mildly terrified that I was going to muck up some play-date protocol that I am utterly unfamiliar with.  Do I just drop him off?  Do I stay?  Do I pack snacks?  Of course, Wyatt has had friends over but these are friends that I am also friends with, no panic involved.  Actually, it is a lot of fun because I get girl catch-up time while Wy plays.  But I don't know Chases' mom.

Wyatt's other friend William

So, we go over to Chases' house and I am asked to take off our shoes.  So I decided we were staying.  Within 3 minutes Wyatt and Chase are upstairs playing and Valerie, her 8 month old daughter, and I are chatting happily in the kitchen.  At one point Chase ran downstairs without pants on and she explained that they were potty training.  Nothing breaks the ice more then a naked 3 year old. I think I might have had just as much fun as Wyatt.  The boys got along great and after 3 hours Wyatt still didn't want to leave.  And dare I say, that I got a new friend as well?!  Wyatt loved the play-date so much that he asks to go over Chases' house and eat french fries for lunch all the time.  Whenever he doesn't want to do something, he says he is going over Chases' house.  Unfortunately, the next time we planned on getting together (with Peter and Peters' mom at the library... a triple date!!) Wyatt got sick and we couldn't go.  I have to admit, I am looking forward to our next play-date.  I think Wyatt is too!

The Accident Incident

Wyatt has been trained since April.  Over the summer I tossed his overnight pull-ups.  He rarely has accidents.  I can probably count the times on one hand and usually they happen at night.  He'll wake up saying "Momma, I have to go potty" and he'll have already gone.  You really can't blame him for trying.  Sometimes there will be a small wet spot in his underwear because he waits till the very last second before rushing to the bathroom.  He holds it forever.  Kid's a camel.  But even that won't happen if you prompt him when he starts doing "the dance".

During the first month in school, on a Wednesday when I went to pick him up, he was soaked.  Drenched in pee down to his socks.  You could smell him 5 feet away.  I didn't think it was Wyatt at first, maybe some kid with a dirty diaper.  Most of the kids in his class aren't potty trained.   I told his teachers he is really good about telling you but sometimes you have to prompt him.  I wondered if it just happen.  That he got too busy and couldn't be bothered to stop playing.  I gathered him up in my arms and rushed him out.  I didn't say anything to his teachers.  I didn't want to embarrass Wyatt.  I didn't want him to think he did anything wrong.  I took him to my office to get him cleaned up.  (I still keep an extra set of clothes in his backpack.  If its not pee, its chocolate or dirt or water.  Better to be prepared.)  It wasn't until I got him undressed that I realized he was freezing.  He had peed a long time ago.

I was livid.  He had been sitting in his own pee for God knows how long.  Why didn't they change him?  If they didn't want to change him, why didn't they call me?  I am in the building, working, while Wyatt is at school.  Literally, 30 seconds away.  Hell, if they let him out of the classroom he would know where to find me unassisted.  The only answer I could give myself is there are too many kids in his class; 17 kids to 3 teachers.  They missed him.  He's not a crier so he doesn't get noticed.  I was so upset.  I called Terry, Mom, Jen, Becca to find out if I was over reacting or the conclusion I had draw seemed accurate.  They all agreed I would have to talk with his teachers.

I went early on Friday; to catch them before all the other kids and parents arrived.  I explained that I was unhappy with something that happened.  I told them that I wasn't upset that Wyatt had an accident.  I almost expected a few with the transition but that he sat wet for some time.  They said I shouldn't be upset, that accidents happen.  No matter how hard I tried to explain myself, they just didn't seem to understand.  I left the room bewildered.  I didn't know how to explain it any clearer.  I went to work.  I thought all day about making a second attempt on how to spell it out.  Its hard to tell someone you don't think they are doing their job.  I ran into the director of the program in the basement.  I wasn't going to mention anything to her.  She said she had heard I was unhappy.  I explained again.  She confirmed that was a valid concern and didn't think his teachers understood.

When I went to pick him up, all of his teachers came over to apologized.  They said that he is such a great kid and always asks for anything he needs and that they were sorry they didn't notice.  I asked that they remind him to go once a day until we're confident that he'll remember on his own.  In the following days, they said they asked but he never needed to go.  They thought maybe he had some kind of fear of the potty at school.  Which I thought was weird.  I had taken him there before and he pretty much goes anywhere, no problem.  I talked to Wyatt about it and he responded with "I'll remember.  Don't worry Momma."  No joke.

He hasn't had another accident since.  And I think they have stopped prompting him.  One of his teachers ran over to me on pick up a few weeks later, so excited that he came and asked to go potty.  I told Wyatt I was proud of him for remembering.  When I asked him for his daily highlights, he didn't mention it.  Colored play-doh and cherry pickers were much more interesting.  It was a non-issue for him.  He forgot that one time. The whole incident taught me that it was clearly something that bothered me much more then it bothered Wyatt.

The Naked Truth

When I was 10, I was at a friends house.  We were in the basement playroom and I had to use the bathroom.  She told me it was upstairs and gave me directions past the kitchen.  As I entered the kitchen, her dad was standing, butt naked, in front of the sink.  He looked up, made eye contact with me then continued washing the dishes.  I was mortified.  Shocked, really.  I had no idea that people (or parents, I should say) stood around naked like that.  It was not something that happened in my family.  For a while, I thought all parents wandered around naked and it was just my parents that didn't.  He seemed so comfortable.  Stark naked knowing that there was a bunch of 10 year-old neighbor girls in the basement.  Like it was just a totally normal family activity similar to dinner around the kitchen table.  It took a while for me to realize that it was her family, not mine, that was out of the norm.  That not everyone was so comfortable being naked, mid-day, doing chores, while your children played in the basement.

Wyatt loves being naked.  He has naked time for at least an hour after every bath.  I think this is entirely acceptable.  I want him to be comfortable with himself.  I want him to know that his body is a work of art and nothing to be ashamed about or feel obligated to cover up.  Obviously, there is a time and place to his nakedness but I am sure he will learn this with age.  We were naked a lot as kids and I don't think it did us much harm.  The best part is when he was at the doctor today and while the doctor was examining his neither regions Wyatt proclaimed "The doctor is checking out my penis!"  Because that is what he calls it.  Because he is naked a lot and potty trained and when he's playing with it, I tell it like it is.

I have always been very comfortable with my body.  I am not a nudist or anything but I enjoy my naked time just as the next girl.  I don't wander around the house naked while other members of my family are home.  But I also think it is a safe assumption to say that my entire family has seen my butt and while breast feeding, I would have to say my boobs as well.  I try my best not to be naked in front of Wyatt but its inevitable.  Every once and a while he will see me getting dressed or getting into the shower or going to get something out of the laundry.  But he doesn't even blink an eye.  Doesn't seem to even notice.  I guess he accepts my nakedness just as his own.

So, while we were camping, I had to take Wyatt into the shower with me. This has happened a few times before but I try not to make it a habit.  I don't really think its a big deal.  He was doing great and then mid-shower he politely asks "Momma, where is your penis?"  I diverted the question which I don't normally do.  He caught me off guard and tried not to be utterly shocked.  It got me thinking how old is too old for him to see me naked?  I thought around 5 but now I am second guessing myself.  I don't want to be like the family I mentioned above but I also don't want to rule out nudity all together.  I think that nudity at home, when handled in a respectful, matter of fact way, is perfectly normal. I want him to be comfortable being naked and knowing that I am comfortable being naked will enforce that.  But when do the uncomfortable questions start?  Or do I just tell it like it is?  How long can I ignore his questions?

Birthday Introspective

Dear Kate,

You turned 10,220 days old on the 19th.  Which seems like a very large, assuming number to be alive on this planet.  There is a lot of things you can do with 10,000+ days.  But it has come and past.  And you're still alive, still breathing, still loving life.  See?  It wasn't that scary.  So, what do you have to say for yourself?

First thing is you don't feel 28.  You just don't.  The minute you popped out that gorgeous baby, time has stood still and you began counting your life in Wyatt years rather then Kate years.  Each year that number gets higher and higher and you still feel like 25.  The only thing that whips you out of this senility is when you have to tell someone that Wyatt is 2 and a half.  Then you have to shake your head saying, "Wait a minute." Then begin counting on your fingers how old you actually might be.  I can only imagine that it is going to get worse; getting to a point where you look at your old self in the mirror asking "who the hell is that?"

I think you should be proud of yourself.  Even though, right now while your writing this letter to your older then 28 self, you don't feel very proud.  You feel that the overall outcome of those 10,000+ days doesn't amount to much.  That you still feel unfinished as a person.  And unaccomplished in your career. And very isolated and incapable in your love life.  That the light of your potential has dimmed somewhat.  That your drive, creativity, and passion has been dulled and tarnished.  That maybe you will never stop asking "what if" before jumping.

But I want you to focus not on the total sum of those 10,000+ days but rather today.  Right now.  Presently and when you read this to your older then 28 self.  How do you feel?  Everyday?

You are happy.  Period.  So, does the sum really matter?  Doesn't the happy cancel everything else out?

You wake up every morning to this angelic face saying good morning and laughing together.  Laughing before the covers have been thrown off.  Laughter instead of alarm clocks.  You have the financial savvy and the support of your parents to ALLOW you to spend time with that angel EVERYDAY.  If you want to lounge in your PJ's and he wants to run around naked all day, you can.  You get to dance and play and sing, everyday.  You get to go to the beach and watch him sit clothed in the salt water.  He says "I love you, Momma" before he falls asleep. You get to watch, participate in, and live unrestrained joy everyday.

You have parents who have shown you what true love is.  That have taught you commitment, compassion, teamwork, and sacrifice.  That taught you to take pride in yourself and your work.  Parents that love, adore, and dote on your child everyday.  That have ingrained in you to care for your loved ones no matter what.  That have given you the strength to love others with all of yourself because it does take strength. You have family that would give you their last shirt off their backs and vice versa.  A family that laughs together and takes vacations together.  A family that likes to be around each other.  Do you understand how rare that is?  You have sisters that, although you are seemingly not very close, would do anything for you and you for them.  You adore them and your life is more complete because they are in it.

You have a home.  A real home.  It might not be a house to call your own but its a home.  Filled with love and familiarity.  Filled with generations of friends that don't knock on the door and help themselves out of your chock full cabinets.  Filled with amazing memories, traditions, and every comfort you could ask for.  And people to come home to! And dinners where everyone helps to prepare a meal where you share a table.  Best of all, and a little gluttonous, you can do chores when you feel like it!

You have friends, oh God, do you have some damn good friends.  Friends that have been there for you since you were 3 and friends that you have just met and friends in between.  Friends that make Wyatt ask "Why are you laughing so much?" when your on the phone.  That inspire you.  That pick you up when your down and know the exact things to say.  Friends that you, literally, could not live without.

You have a dog, that's.....well.....um.....cute.

The point is, I know you are going to have times in your life, whether 28, 35, or 76, that you are going to feel doubtful.  Thats when I want you to drag out this letter and remind yourself that is isn't the sum total of your days that make you successful.  It isn't the checklist of life; the house, kids, marriage, career.  Its your everyday.  The everyday that make up the moments you will remember for your whole life.  The memories that fill up your days at 102 wishing that you had told yourself at 28 to take the time to burn those happy moments into your memory.  I am telling you to slow down.  To breathe.  Calm your life down.  And remember that you are happy, everyday.  That is the only thing that really matters.

Love, Kate
Ps. Thats a picture of you, at 3 months old.  You can accomplish A LOT in 10,000+ days.

The What If's and Maybe's

Wyatt has been having a lot of bloody noses lately.  To qualify a lot, I would estimate once a month.  They almost always happen at night.  He wakes up with blood on the pillow and sheets and crusted on his face.  It makes me so upset to see him like that.  And typical Wyatt fashion he doesn't let me wipe his face off until he has fully woken up which is sometimes at 10.  He'll walk around the house, playing with his trucks, with blood smeared on his cheeks.  Then over Memorial Day weekend he had one Saturday night, then another for about an hour on Sunday, then another on Sunday night.  Freaked. Me. Out. What the hell is up with that?!  Then he had a small night one a week later.

Of course, I called Dr. Greg.  If they were happening sporadically I would shrug and go about my life but it seems to be getting worse.  Dr. G wants him to go to an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist to get his nose cauterized.  He said that it shouldn't be happening that frequently, get it cauterized and they will stop.  I was really hoping he was going to tell me not to worry about it.  That its a phase.  It will pass.  Cauterizing seems invasive. (For those that don't know: they would burn the inside of his nose to create scar tissue to block and prevent bleeding.) An unnecessary procedure for a 2 year old and a terrifying procedure for me.   Really, is that our only option?  Doesn't that seem risky?  What about infections?  What happens when he grows?  It just seems like cauterizing should be our absolute last option.

I haven't called the specialist yet.  I'm procrastinating because I'm nervous.  I'm afraid that if I take him they will cauterize on the spot which I am not sure is the right option.  Or that they will look and freak him out then if it gets worse and I have to take him again its going to be traumatic.  Like burned into his memory for eternity traumatic.  Like etched as the first Mommy hurt me moment.  Maybe I'm over thinking.  I want to do the right thing by Wyatt.  Of course, stopping his bloody noses is better for me but is taking the invasive option right for Wyatt?  Maybe its allergies.  Maybe its a stage.  Maybe he's picking his nose behind my back.  He is my son after all and everyone knows how much I love to pick my nose.

He had another one on Monday.  It was worse then it looked.  We were down by the beach.  He was sneaking up on me then splashing.  I would spin around, grab him and dunk his butt in the water while swishing him around.  I was pretending not to notice him so he could sneak up on me. After a few moments, I turned to find him wiping his face with blood everywhere.  On his forehead to his chin, running down his lips, from his fingertips to his elbows.  I know the water diluted it but blood was everywhere.  I washed him up as best I could and leaned him forward watching droplets fall in the water.    I put Pup's leash on and by the time I got him home and cleaned up, it had stopped.  Should I call?  I'm not sure what to do.

Twin Cities Ramble

I’m sitting at a bar in Minneapolis, conveniently named Tuggs seemingly for it rhyming with Juggs.  I worked all day for Ideas to Go and now am scheduled on a flight back tomorrow morning at 10.  I’ve just walked around for a good 30 minutes trying to think of something to do.  I have no idea what to do with myself.  I honestly don’t think I've had this much free time since Wyatt was born.  I’m reminded of that utterly blissful freedom; the kind you have before you become a parent.  Before you realize what a time suck children are.  A wildly enjoyable time suck.  But one none the less.  I finally settled on drinking a beer, with my laptop, watching shirtless men running on the waterfront.  Really, I’m considering moving to Minneapolis just for the shirtless men and the $3 beers and, maybe, the cobblestone.  There is something about the way a car sounds driving on the cobblestone that gives me that old world charm.

I’m not complaining about my lack of free time just cherishing it when it comes.   I have had nights away from Wyatt before.  But I usually fill them with friends.  I know nothing about Minneapolis.  I had to reference license plates to know what state I was in.  Classic ignorant American.  I know no one here.  Or rather, I know people here, but I wouldn’t want to burden them with occupying my time.  I think I need these nights every once and a while but I don’t think I could plan them at home.  I’m in a kind of limbo.  I think that if I found myself with this kind of free time, even marginally away from Wyatt, I would have made my way home by now.  Not to mention, this seems like an very extravagant thing to do.

Shirtless boy.  12 o’clock.  Unlocking bike then mounting.  With yellow boxers showing beneath madras shorts.  God, that’s distracting.

This post is going to ramble.  I can feel it already.  I have been so busy lately with all the work I have been doing.  Between St. John’s and Ideas to Go.  Then Rebecca Graduating from Fordham (again). And Hayley moving to LA.  I’ve been booked solid.  Something I enjoy!  But leaves little time for anything else.  I think filling up my date book has taught me a lesson.  I’ve made significant efforts to preserve a day off.  I literally shut my phone off, forget about email, and concentrate the entire day on Wyatt.  Its refreshing to not feel pulled in 12 directions, knowing I can focus all my attentions on him without feeling guilty or preoccupied.

Oh my.  Several sweaty bearded boys mostly in plaid button downs sitting behind me.  One shirtless, tatooed and with seersucker shorts.  I can’t overtly stare at them but am downwind.  Its like crack.  I need to get to the hotel before I get myself in trouble.  Its Monday night for goodness sake.  90 degrees but still Monday.

I bought a bike seat for Wyatt.  On my Dad’s urging.  We pulled my Mom’s old rusted Swinn Cruiser from the shed and attached the seat on the back.  Requiring a few trips to the hardware store and several tool exchanges from Wyatt.  On a valiant effort, I decided to ride up this huge (in Long Island perspective) hill to the library on Wyatt and I’s maidien voyage.  I think this seat is solidifying my “granola” status.  I find it refreshing traveling in such an old fashion way.  Riding bikes can never be out dated.  By the time we got to the library, I was dying; sweating profusely, gasping for breath, legs like jelly.  Wyatt was swinging his helmet on his pinkie finger proclaiming the exhilarating ride.  I am proud to say the ride home was much easier although I didn't quite trust the brakes.  I am looking forward to our next adventure.  Maybe I'll get a basket to go on the front for Pup.  Too much?

B.F.F

I have finally been able to nail down some mom friends.  Mostly because some of my friends have become moms.  I cannot begin to explain how nice this is.  Its so refreshing to not feel like the lone ranger at a party chasing around a toddler.  Not to mention someone who is off from work as much as I am.  And someone who I can relate to.  Kari and I can sit and talk about mom stuff for hours, and usually do.  She is a great sounding board.  I can bounce ideas and problems off of her to get her opinion.  It helps me keep my mom-emotions in check.  I think it is good for Wyatt too, to have a friend to play with, hopefully make him less like an only child.  The other night we were stopping by their house.  I asked Wyatt if he would like to go visit our friends.  He goes "Yes! Go play with Lars Christian!"  Although the Christian part usually comes off as Crissssssshtan.  When we first introduced the boys Kari said "Wyatt, this is Lars Christian.  You don't know it yet but you are going to be best friends."  I really hope they will be.

For Wyatt's actually birthday we took the boys to the Children's Museum.  It is amazing.  I think I might have had more fun then Wyatt.  There is a sand room, a bubble room, and this little kid area where he could sit on a motorcycle or a train.  He LOVED it.  He was running around screaming "All aboard.  Hurry up, Momma, train's leaving!"  I would rush up to him and he would ask me for my ticket.  Then push all the train buttons to make it go.  By 1:30, he refused to have lunch and was getting that sleepy walking into things gait.  I bundled him up to get into the car then put him down to get my coat on.  He bolted back into the museum yelling "Getting away! Bubbles!! Running away!" He would have stayed there all day.

About a month ago, Kari had a babysitting fall through and asked if I could watch Lars Christian for a few hours while she went to work.  Literally, 4 hours.  I, of course, said yes and that it would be no problem.  When I told my mom she started laughing and thought I was out of my mind.  "Babysit a 2 year old and a 5 month old.  Kate couldn't possibly do that. Yeah, she's a good mom but not that coordinated."  Thanks for the vote of confidence!  Lars Christian was amazing.  He was smiling and happy.  Wyatt was good too although wouldn't really share his toys and then decided he wasn't going to share Lars Christian's toys either.  Mom did a mad rush home to see if I needed any help.  Lars Christian was sleeping and Wyatt and I were sitting and having lunch, the music was on, everyone was happy.  Mom couldn't believe it and I labeled myself as the BEST BABYSITTER IN THE WORLD!  Then just as I had a very gratifying pat on the back from the naysayer, the lights went out.  Yes, it was raining.  Yes, it was the middle of the day.  Wyatt and I lit some candles.  Not a huge deal but shook my footing a little.  Once Lars Christian woke up, I sat them both on the couch.  Lars Christian on my right, Wyatt on my left, and Pup on my feet and told them a story about a mail truck named Stewart.  Wyatt promptly fell asleep listening to the rain just as Kari walked through the door.  My conclusion was: I could totally have two kids.  (SHUT UP biological clock, Shut the hell Up!)

Let the Parenting Begin

I have written about Wyatt's eating habits several times just to delete everything. I know every toddler on the planet has eating issues. And I also know that there is nothing more boring then reading about a toddler's eating habits. But I just can't help myself. After almost every meal, I run to my laptop to bang the keys in anger and frustration because my kid WON'T EAT ANYTHING!! Over the course of the day I can make him 12 different meals to get one bite of each actually in his mouth (digested is a whole other story). And then I think, Ok, 12 bites and a multi-vitamin. Thats not so bad. I can calm myself down, convince myself that he is a well rounded eater, until the next meal when my kid STILL won't eat anything and the cycle starts all over again.

I have started getting anxious around meal times. 8am, 11am, 5pm, I start sweating wondering if this time it will be any better. Should I even bother with a vegetable to just jump right to pizza? I feel like everything I prepare is going to end up in the dogs bowl. Even staples that I always could count on like yogurt aren't cutting it anymore. The other night I made home-cooked Mac and Cheese (not even the blue box kind!) and Wyatt didn't take one bite. I decided to stand my ground and told him he was going to sit there until he ate something. We stared at each other for a while. Then he asked for a carrot. And he ate it. So I let him down. I'll take a few bites of a carrot for dinner. And a carrot is MUCH better then nothing, or ice cream, or cookies, or gumminbears (as Wyatt says it. I won't mention who's responsible for that. Cough, cough, Auntie B, cough) Every single meal is a frustrating game of trying to convince him to eat.

I have made it a Thing. He has always been in the 90 percentile for weight and last doctor's visit he dropped to the 60th. And he can sense its a Thing and acts out accordingly. How do I not make it a Thing? Most of the time I can get creative and play some kind of a game to get him to eat. I break out the toothpicks or his fake toolset for him to plier pinch his food. Or I'll give him a bunch of toys while I feed him, spoon by spoon. Or put Cheerios in his cement mixer. Most of the time I can muster up Miss Perfectly Patient despite the knot in my stomach. I will make him a million different things, trying everything in the cabinet.

And then there are the times I loose it. I have bad days just like the rest of the world where I can't be anyone but Grumpy McGrumpster. I resort to bribing which I don't think he understands. The eat one more bite and you can get down (or get an ice pop, or get a toy, or get a sticker, or kick Momma just one more time when she's down) days. Its those days where I throw up my hands and let him eat whatever he wants. Fine, eat popcorn all day. See if I care. Which works for maybe a minute before I do care because I'm his mother and I will always care. And then on top of not getting him to eat now I feel like a failure of a mother because I can't be Miss Perfectly Patient Parent of the MOTHER FUCKING YEAR!! (ARRRR - lays head down on laptop sdkj fhas;tgai hensk djf).

I just honestly have no idea what to do. He is growing up and wants to be independent. He is testing his limits and seeing what he can get away with. He RARLY misbehaves and I have never had to "discipline" him. If I start "forcing" him to eat at the dinner table he will be less willing to sit there all together. It will make it even more of a Thing. But I also feel I need to set a precedent that I am the boss, damn it. He should do what I ask him to. It's just HARD and confusing!! And he is so good, all the time. He is allowed to be a little finicky every now and then. I just need a new game plan, some new tricks up my sleeve, maybe some new recipes. Or I just need to accept that its a phase. Grin and bear it.

Bunk Beds, Anyone?

Last weekend, while Wyatt was with Terry and my mind was spinning silently into a vortex of solidarity, I dismantled Wyatt's crib and replaced it with a toy box. I can't remember the last time Wyatt actually slept in his crib (embarrassingly, I think it will be a year around April). He likes to climb up the side of it and asks for me to throw socks at him. Certainly not what it is intended for and most likely an activity that has us headed for a recall. So, I decided to call a spade a spade, officially dig my grave as a co-sleeper, and pray that his transition into a big-boy bed goes smoothly and quickly.

(Deep breath and a sigh) Wyatt sleeps with me. Every night. And every nap he is snuggled in my (our) big bed. It might not be socially acceptable but its what works for us. Wyatt usually sleeps for 10 hours straight at night and I do too except for some kicks and maybe a reposition or two. Its OK with me. When he wakes up, I get to hear the first words out of this mouth which I can only assume is something he has been dreaming about. Yesterday it was "Robin Hood hiding in tree. Up, up, up at top. Oh no! Fall down! Bamm." Then he opened his eyes looked into mine and said "Morning Momma!" Yes, sometimes it can be terribly inconvenient and most of the time mildly embarrassing but I think its a good compromise. And just like most of the bad parts of childhood, its fleeting and you are left with only the good memories.

Sometimes I wonder if under difference circumstances he would be still in his crib. If I had a man in my bed every night (preferably/hopefully the same man) would Wyatt never have made it into my bed to begin with. Maybe I would have been stricter with him. Maybe my loneliness and spinsterhood has enabled Wyatt to stay in my bed. Maybe if we both weren't insane cuddlers. And then I think maybe not. Regardless of who is in my bed, I would still want to wake up with Wyatt's blue eyes inches from mine. I can see the scene play out before me, Wyatt would cry and I would start begging. "Please, let me bring him in. Only this once, promise. Please, he needs me." Which would turn into every night.

I was, understandable, nostalgic when removing Wyatt's crib. As each side came down, I would have flashbacks of Lizzy and Rebecca's hysterical antics at its assembly. Flashbacks of sunrises spent watching Wyatt's chest rising and falling. Flashbacks of forgoing sleep to listen to him coo or smell behind his ears. As I packed all of the bumpers and extra sheets into the attic I found myself wondering when I might see them again. Maybe in the next 5 years, maybe 10 years, maybe never. Because you really never know what life is going to bring. And the cliches are true; it all goes much much faster then you ever anticipated.

(Just a brief explanation of these pictures: First, Wyatt is 2 days old. His first introduction to Momma's big bed. Second, the last time Wyatt was in his crib. He's 5 months old. And Third, the other day in his preferred sleeping position.)

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

I have been reading a lot of my older posts lately. Surveying my life (and Wyatt's) over the two years. A lot of the stuff I simply had forgotten it happened. Then I read a post and am brought right back. Its like when I'm in bed and I swear I will remember whatever I am thinking that very moment. Then the sun hits my eyes and I have no idea what it was regarding. I just remember that I have forgotten something. This blog gives it all back. But my point (yes, I swear I have one) is that I am shocked at how my anxiety level has dropped the older Wyatt gets. When he was just born, every other post is about some kind of anxiety. It really does get easier (until he is thirteen and then one of us will definitely not survive puberty).

I have have not bothered to buy books. I swore by "What to Expect: the First Year" until he was about 8 months at which point I decided they were toxic. They have an entire section at the back that is focused on first aid. Relatively handy but terrifying. If I mistakenly opened to the page "What to do if your child looses an appendage?" it was guaranteed nightmares for a week. Chances are he is not going to cut off his finger but now the graphics are burned into my memory and everything is a potential severing device. I refuse to use google to diagnose anything. Cause sure enough if your child still sleeps with you, he has cancer of the belly button that is keeping the cord still attached. Seriously, everything on google leads to cancer. Try it. Reminds me of that 10 degrees of separation game that always ends with Kevin Bacon. Lately, I have been relying more on instinct parenting. If he seems like he is thriving chances are he is. It seems to be working and I sleep much better.

Although, I am slightly lost about the little things. Like when should I ditch the bottles and transfer to milk in sippy cups? He will not drink cold milk. Refuses. So, I think bottles will stay for a little while longer. Or when can I throw out the binky? He didn't use it a lot for a while; strictly for naps only. But now that he can ask for it, it seems to be in his mouth more often. I really don't want him to be that 5 year old with a binky. I am relying on our pediatrician to give me most of this information but our next appointment is at two. The big things are accounted for, like walking, talking, eating, starting potty training, reading books every night. I guess the little things will fall into place. Hell, he's an extraordinarily happy kid. What else matters really?

On the organic front, I'm not all organic so I can't really expect Wyatt to be. Yes, I buy organic whole milk, apple juice, juice boxes, snacks, and as much produce as my limited grocery store offers. In all honesty, organic is more expensive and I can't afford to make meals for the entire family organically. And I am not going to make Wyatt a completely separate meal. Especially if we are out to dinner, he wants to eat what I am eating and if thats pizza, well, he gets pizza. (Did I break some huge Mom rule? Pizza and ice cream before two!! Blasphemy!!) I really do try my best but I am not going to stress out over it either. He is a really healthy kid and in my mind (which is totally not based on fact) its due to breast feeding for 8 months, organic food, and possibly genetics. In that order. Did you know I got my PhD online last night?

Trading Babies

Terry has been home for about three months now.  He comes in and out, traveling every few weeks but is never gone for long.  Wyatt and Terry's relationship has blossomed due to the consistency.  Wyatt trusts Terry, looks to him for comfort and safety, runs to him with his outstretched arms to be picked up.  Wyatt has made the connection between Terry and Dad.  Its adorable really.  Sometimes when they're playing together I just want to sit back and watch.  Watch how differently Wyatt plays with Terry compared with me.  No matter how tom-boyish I am, I will never be able to play like a boy.

As Wyatt's comfort level has grown so has my own.  As long as Wyatt is happy and content so am I.  Its nice having an extra set of hands to help.  So, when I was left with Wyatt one day, car-less, and needed to run up to the church my first natural call was Terry.  We made a plan for Terry to come over to watch the baby for a few hours while I took Terry's car to zip around town.  Seems like a  pretty normal happening, right?!  Wrong.  This was a monumental leap of faith and trust on both of our sides.

The first issue was Terry loaning me his car.  Terry's car is fairly new, only purchased a few months ago and a 6-speed to boot.  Since he moves around a lot, his Jeep has become this makeshift home that he is Very attached to.  That might be an understatement.  If Terry had to choose between food and his Jeep, he would without a doubt choose his Jeep.  The next issue was that I haven't driven a 6-speed in about 5 years.  Besides, Terry thinks I am a horrific driver even though I am the one with the squeaky clean driving record.  The last issue was I that I still getting kinda twitchy about leaving Wyatt.  I'm not nervous.  Thats not it.  Its more that I get worried that Wyatt's going to hurt himself and I'm not going to be there to give him a big hug.  Or what happens if Wy is looking for me and can't find me?  Will he think I abandoned him?  And I just miss him.  Plain and simple.

So, the three of us are in the driveway.  Wyatt in Terry's arms as I am settling into the Jeep's front seat.  Terry is explaining about how I shouldn't need the 6th speed and if I do, I am going too fast.  That the registration is in the glove compartment.  That I better not burn out the clutch.  I am trying to pay attention but we are talking over each other as I tell Terry that he better take good care of Wyatt.  Take him for a walk down the beach.  Remember his hat and sunscreen.  Sit with him and watch the Backyardigans if he gets antsy.  There are goldfish crackers in the cabinet and apple juice in the fridge.  And whatever you do don't forget the lovey blanket.  As I pulled away, all I could think is how comical the situation was.  How Terry and I were both nervous about the next few hours.

When I got home about 2 hours later, Wyatt was playing happily with Terry in the kitchen completely indifferent to my presence.  Actually, I think Wyatt was kinda mad that I was home.  He gave me this look of "Ohh, its you."  I, thankfully, didn't stall out and remembered how to drive stick in a flash.  But when Terry got back in his car that afternoon, he noticed two check engine lights that hadn't been on before I took her out for a spin.  Somehow I managed I disrupt the balance and deflate the tires going all of 15 miles.  Clearly, Terry had more to worry about than I did.  A lesson I am sure he will remind me of the next time he babysits.