Off We Go

I am leaving tomorrow for a weekend camping/music adventure in upstate NY.  Without Wyatt.  I will be gone from Friday morning until Sunday night.  It is the longest time I will have ever left Wyatt, to date.  Ever.  60 potential hours of freedom.  I am feeling apprehensive about it but also wildly excited.  Its a weird land to be in.  Total opposites.  I'll be excitedly hopping around packing, looking forward to being a dirty hippie one minute to squeezing Wyatt so hard he can barely breathe and wondering what cute things I am going to miss the next.

He'll be fine.  In the loving care of 4 grown adults with "no rules cause Momma's away."  With all the attention my family will throw at him, I doubt he will even know I am away.

Then again, he tried to convince me to bring him with me today.  We were shopping for supplies:
"Momma, where are you going camping?"
"Hunter, NY.  Its on a mountain."
"I love camping!"
"Yeah I know you do, bud.  But this time its not really for kids."
"Most kids can't go because they can't climb the mountain but I can!  I climb mountains when we go cut christmas trees."
"I know you do. But our tent is too little."
"We have another tent. We can bring 2 tents!"
"Maybe bud. Maybe"

When we got home he wanted ice cream for dinner because there are no rules.  "Not yet bud. Not yet."

More to come.  Hopefully, much, much more.

Nowhere I'd Rather Be

Who Will You Be Today?

Wyatt has moved onto a new phase of imagination that must include dressing up.  Seriously, one must LOOK like a fireman while driving a fire truck.  Am I right or am I right?

And every dinner table needs a superhero.  Wyatt likes to be Aqua Boy.  I am Glitter Girl.  Pa is Lex Luther.  Gammy is Captain Flower Power.  Etc, etc, etc for everyone he comes in contact with and frequently will change at any moment.

He actually walked around the Greenwich Village all day in this.  Frequently wondering why no one was saying hi to him.  Honey, they dress like this all the time in the village.

Of course, the flight suit.  Much harder to get into then it looks.

51 Months

Boo,

So, I just spent the last 2 hours of our life trying to get you to bed.  It truly takes becoming a parent to understand that it is impossible to MAKE someone else fall asleep.  You cannot make anyone (including yourself) fall asleep.  In fact, I cannot make you do much of anything.  Usually it doesn't bother me to lay with you for those extra 90 minutes while you make up excuses on why you don't need to be in bed.  But tonight, I wanted to write this post.  Maybe clean up the millions of Legos that have exploded all over the house.  Play with the new iPhone I bought myself for Mother's Day.  Clearly, none of these things were happening.  The best part is just when I resigned myself to spending most of the night in your bed, you fell asleep.  It was 10:30.  I usually don't mind that you stay up late on the weekends because it means that you sleep in.  (And we are both NOT morning people!)  But tomorrow you have school and it is going to be a nightmare.  I can imagine it already:

You will leisurely roll out of bed around 8:15.  School starts at 9.  I will make you something, of your choice, for breakfast. As I am getting myself ready, you will push it around the plate to make it look like you ate it only to request something else once I come back into the room.  I will deny request because it is too late and then have to remind you to eat 10,000 times. I am so sick of the phrase "Wyatt eat your bagel."  It is, by far, my most used sentence.  I will have to dress you while you dance around collecting toys to bring in the car. Then there will be the begging to turn off the TV, to go to the bathroom, to get in the car.  Oh please get in the car, I don't care what door you want to get in.  Clearly, you know I am in a rush to get out the door so you will take as long as possible to do everything.  Undoubtedly, we will get there at least 10 minutes late.  But everything will be worth in when you give me that big hug (and kiss, and maybe a kissing hand or two, and then just one more hug) before bounding happily off to play with your friends.  Such is our life.  Moments of aggravation followed by immense happiness.  Check please, I'll take it.

Trent had a Star Wars "May the 4th be With You Party" on (wait for it) May the 4th.  The invitation came in the mail a good 2 weeks before the party and you asked about it every day.  "Its TODAY Trent's party?" Literally, the first words out of your mouth, every morning.  You don't know anything about Star Wars.  But it was the most exciting thing you have every heard of.  So we got out some books because I still think you are a little young for the movies.  Barring the fact that I couldn't pronounce most of the words, you now have a basic knowledge of Star Wars as told by Me (minus the war part and most of the killing. No sense, absolutely no sense.  Basically there are Jedi and JarJar and R2D2 and they are great friends that go on space junk-collecting-pod adventures)  Conveniently, May 4th was also "Dress Yourself" day at school.  You wore fire truck pajama pants (that were too small so they rode up like floods) with a truck t-shirt/dress, some spiderman sneakers and stripped socks.  And, of course, the Yoda hat I fished out of the attic.  You are one stylish dude.  All the other kids looked fairly normal.  Not you. You went all out and spoke about the Star Wars party the entire day, according to your teachers.  Truth be told, it was a pretty awesome party.  And you were very good with the light saber games which makes me think I need to sign you up for golf or baseball or some other sport I don't know of played with a stick.

Terribly crooked hair courtesy of Gammy

Speaking of, soccer is going really well.  We keep on missing practices for various reasons (hello, Tuesday at 5, why are you so difficult?!  And thank you, Siri, for now reminding me.)  Last week you got a free ice cream because you played so well.  I might be exaggerating a little.  I think it was more because you are VERY enthusiastic about playing.  Not that you actually play well.  I am not sure you have ever actually made contact with the ball.  But soccer is not about the ball.  Its really just about the running.  And you run very well.  Not like me at all.  So I am still very very proud of you.

So my iPhone.  Welcome, Kate to the 21st century!!  You are very excited about this.  Before we left the store, before my email or voicemail were set up, you demanded that they download Angry Birds.  I didn't know you knew what that was.  Evidently, you do.  Honestly, I think you know how to work my phone better then I do.  You have downloaded more Apps then I have.  You ask to talk to Siri and have her find you different YouTube videos.  When my phone goes off in your hands, you look up and say "Oh Mom, you can get it later." And then dismiss the call.  It is amazing what technology can do.  And it is totally bizarre that you will have lived in a time where this kind of technology is normal.  You will never know cassette tapes or 12 channel TV or VHS or morse code. You will always have whatever you need, whenever you need, whomever you want, right at your fingertips.  Kinda crazy, right?

Looking forward to next month.  I love you everyday,
Momma

And Scene....

Wyatt and I are at the playground.  There are other kids running around but he doesn't know anyone so he decides he would like to play with me for a little.
"Mom?"
"Yeah, Bud."
"We're going to play Secret Agents.  I am the agent in my flying machine and you need to steal the gold."
"Ok."

I run to the 'bank' and pretend to heist the gold bars.  Then run very dramatically over to my hiding spot.  I catch a glimpse of Wyatt pretending to fly patrolling the area.  I am, literally, on my hands and knees, chuckling at my clever hiding place and waiting for Wy to find me.

And I am waiting.

Yup, still waiting.

I peek over to see where he is.  A dad is smirking at me with a kind of pitying look.  I finally spot Wyatt in the corner with another little boy.  His arms are still out like he is in his flying machine.  I get up, mildly disappointed.

"Bud, I stole the gold and hid it in something green."
"Well, I don't want the gold anymore.  My submarine only runs on crystals." And off he runs.

I can't even keep up with my son's imagination.

Walkin' Man

Wyatt One Liners - Bedtime

I try to talk to Wyatt each night about our "High's and Low's"; the high point of our day and the lowest part.  I have also heard it called the rose, the thorn and the bud (something new or exciting).  Maybe we will call it that when he gets older.  This has produced some very interesting night time stories.  Most of the time his high's are something that just happened like "I got to play horsey with Pa" or "I got to play at Charlie's house."  And his low's are the one moment I don't want him to remember like "When you yelled at me to hurry up" or "when you made me go to bed."  The nights I love the most are the ones that he has no lows and 2 highs.  Or no lows and all highs.  "The day was so many highs I can't remember them all!"  Sometimes he says he can't remember anything and asks me to recount them.  "Mom, talk about your highs and lows."  Then we role play.
"Hey bud, remember when I got mad because I asked you to eat your dinner and you kept on running to get more toys?"
"Yeah"
"That was my low.  I don't like getting frustrated.  Ok, you be mom and I'll be Wyatt. Ok?"
"Ok"
"Momma, I know I haven't eaten any dinner but I want to play with toys." I say
"Wyatt, sit down and eat some dinner."
"But I want to get my toys."
"Dinner makes you stronger.  It's important!" says Wyatt
"Ok, mom. How about I take 3 bites and then I go get toys!"
"3 bites is a lot!  That sounds like a good plan!"
And then there are some nights where as soon as I turn off the light Wyatt says yawning "I'm asleep already."

Every night, I put Wyatt to bed in his room.  We read books.  I wait for him to fall asleep then sneak downstairs.  Most of the time he calls for me around 2am and then he comes to find me in my room.  I know he shouldn't sleep with me, but I also know it is fleeting.  Most of the time it doesn't bother me.  Sometimes when I'm especially tired or he is sick or Auntie B is home we have "sleepovers" where I put him to bed in my room initial.  At this point, after almost 4 years, I actually sleep better with him in my bed. 

"Wyatt, you're not always going to want to sleep with your mom.  Big boys don't always need to sleep with their moms.  Firemen don't sleep with their moms at the firehouse."

"Yes, Mom, they do.  Their mom's do come with them to the firehouse."

"Really?"

"Yes. That is why they have bunk beds. I will sleep on the top and you can sleep on the bottom. Then we can be fireman together.  They have firegirl's too."

I usually wake up to hear his little footsteps right outside my door (or most of the time, I am not even asleep at all) and the door knob twisting.  I have been trying to break him of this habit but I haven't really had a lot of motivation. The other night he comes down and stops at the edge of my bed rather then his usual of just hopping right in.
"Helwo"
"Hey bud."
"Momma, I love you." In his little sign song voice that he uses when he is trying to get something.
"I love you too.  Come on up."
Works every time.

One night, I had fallen asleep with a candle lit in my room.  (This doesn't usually happen, but hey, I was tired.)  Wyatt comes down, spies the candle and shouts "What is this?  A blackout or somethsing?" Then he leaves the room, goes into the kitchen and turns on the lights to check if they work and comes back in.  I blow out the candle and marched him back upstairs.  Then next morning he asks "Mom, was there a blackout last night or was it just a dream?"

Just a Boy in his Dirt Pile

The Soccer Star

50 Months

Bud,

Bri and Elias had their baby on March 31st and I got to hold little Michael at the hospital.  It was weird, how after 4 years, some things remain lodged in my head and how others just evaporated.  Like how instantly your newborn smell came rushing back.  Or the way you used to snuggle your head into me and the way you liked to be held.  But yet when Bri asked me normal questions, like when did I give you a bottle, I was at a total loss.  I find myself wondering how we got from baby to 4 a lot.  Where did all that time go?  Sometimes as a parent (as you will hopefully one day see) there seems to be a lot of "hurry up and wait."  I find that there are so many chores and things to do that the day is over before I feel it even started.  And conversely there are times when there seems to be large expanses of time that I need to fill.  Wasn't it yesterday that I brought you home from the hospital?  But haven't you been in my life forever?  How are you 4?  And it seems like ages ago you were a baby?  We are going everyday.  Every moment is filled something but how come I feel that we are in the same place we were 4 years ago?  Its weird.

Because you are such a big boy now you started soccer.  First practice went less then fabulous.  We were late (my fault) and rushing always puts you a little on edge.  All the other kids were on the field, and right off the Irish coach thought your name was Ryan.  So he keeps calling you Ryan and you keep on correcting him.  Finally, this got you upset and you ran to me crying "Mom, he's not understanding my name!  Please, tell him my name!"  After that was cleared up, you missed the rest of the directions and then felt lost.  "Mom, I'm no good at this."  Then went off to play with your friend Charlie.  I shrugged and decided you needed some time to get used to it.  I will forever be traumatized when my soccer coach yelled at me for kicking the ball with my toe when I was 5.  I vowed that that would not happen to you.

Well, we worked at home.  Talked it up.  Kicked the ball around a bit.  And on game day, you were brilliant.  I am not quite sure you will be the next David Beckham but you definitely have great enthusiasm.  You listened to the coach, hell, I think you gave him some directions.  You played great with the other kids, taking turns seamlessly.  You ran up and down that field with all your might.  You liked to play goalie but unfortunately there are no goalies in your age bracket.  Every time some one would yell "Towards the goal" you would go regardless of where the ball was.  I am so proud that you tried your very best.  It was a really great day.  And those damn cleats are the cutest thing I have ever seen.  I think I took about 100 pictures just of those cleats.

I had quite a scare with you the other day.  We were down at the beach with the dogs and Gianna.  You and Gianna were standing on a rock taking our normal stroll (down the steps, around the beach, up the hill, into the backyard, the whole thing takes 5 minutes tops but we usually dawdle) when Cash came face to face with a neighbors dog.  They starting going at it.  Literally, bitting each others coats, growling, snarling, and yelping.  I got them separated, but afraid it might happen again or worse that one of you would be caught in the middle, I told you to turn around and come back the other way.  I was pre-occuped with the dogs, heard some rustling behind me, to which I assumed was you and Gianna.  When I looked back, Gianna was standing next to me and you were gone.  I called and there was no answer.  I freaked.  I sent Gianna in one direction, me in the other and I am scanning the water telling myself that I never heard a splash.  Honestly, it was about 3 minutes when you finally answered one of my increasingly shrill calls.  You had gone up the hill and then repeated the loop to the top of the stairs.  It was a classic parent moment where I didn't know if I wanted to scream at you or hug you.  I did hug you.  But I also put you in time out.  You wanted to go up the hill.  You didn't answer my calls because your "listening ears weren't working because there were too many bumble bee's buzzing."  Then you tried to get out of your time out by singing me a song. "Know why?" you ask.  (Which is your phrase.  It comes after everything you say.) "Because you think my singing voice is so beautiful and it will make you happy."  So, I made you sing me a song, while in time out.  It is hard to punish a kid that you are just so gosh darn happy to see.

Wyatt, I love you.  Every minute, I love you.  But if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I am going to send every single one of your toys to Africa.  "Know why?"  Because in that 3 minutes you scared the everliving shit out of me.  It was like watching the entire world explode before my eyes.  Got it?

I love you, everyday.
Momma

My Goose

Wild By Nature

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.

So Long Winter...

49 Months

Goose,

The dust has settled from your birthday.  Just barely. You are still talking about presents you want for your birthday.  Child, you got enough.  Trust me.  And, Thank God, you finally are including 4 in your counting!

A Wyatt Original

We took a lovely mini-vacation to visit Mia and Kelly (and significant others) in Boston.  It was just nice to get out of the state for a while.  Pretend we were somewhere warm.  We went for a hike in the woods and you brought your camera.  Honestly, some of the pictures came out pretty damn good.  You might have an eye already.  It is just too bad that the picture quality isn't too great.  I might even frame some.  I'm not even sure if you meant to do it, capture the texture of the leaves or a ray of light, but you did.  On our way home we stopped at the Boston Aquarium.  You have been watching this new show on Disney called the Octonauts.  You're obsessed and have a new found interest in marine life.  I swear, you were running around the aquarium telling me which blob of colorfulness was which.  "Look Mom!  Its an anemone!  Its a comb jellyfish!  Its a sea cucumber!"  Or directing where we should go next.  "Mom, where are the pilot fish?" Most of the time I had no idea what you were talking about.  I had to keep checking the map.  You ran through that place.

I was determined to get you on skis this winter. Unfortunately, we have had one day of snow compared to last years 50 million.  So, I figured Boston was about as far north as we were going to get.  I found this little mountain about 30 mins from Mia's house.  I got you all geared up and you lasted 2 runs.  I decided to just stick with you in my boots in case you needed an extra hand.  I got you sliding your feet and then we went up the bunny hill.  You did it once holding onto me for dear life and the second run you let go a little.  When you did you started yelling, "Mom!  I'm skiing!!  Look, I'm skiing!"  Before reaching to grab a hold of me again.  After that, you asked for some hot chocolate.  It was very cute and I wasn't going to push it on your first time.  Hopefully, next year we will have more opportunities.

You finally had another audition.  We were on a little drought there for a while.  I wouldn't mention it but you said the darnest thing right afterward.  Aunt Wiz was trying to explain to you what you were suppose to do when they called your name.  In some vague way she offered, you have to do what they say and then they will give you money to buy lots of toys.  Yes.  That is what she told you.  So, you go in and look perfect and adorable.  When it was over you marched straight to Aunt Wizzie and say "I did everything they told me to do.  Are they going to give me money now?"  Ehh, no.  Not quite yet.  All the parents around us started laughing and we rushed to get you out of there before you said something else.

You have perfected this uncanny ability to know just when I am going to loose it.  When you are so close to pushing my last button and earning yourself a time out. When you have asked to too many times for water at bedtime.  When I am about to loose my patience.  Just before that happens you run to me, throw your arms around any part of me that you can reach and say "I love you, Mom."  I don't know how you have figured it out but you have.  Of course I am a sucker for your I love yous.  It might not get you out of a time out but it will certainly buy you some more time.  I might not have figured you out but you definitely have figured me out.

I love you everyday,
Momma