Friday, May 02, 2008

Thirty-Two Months: My Letter to Little Man

Today, you turn 32 months old. And if I were to tell you this, you would ask me for cake and candles, because cake is what you live for these days and you have this OCD thing where no restaurant can have candles on their tables, as you have to compulsively blow each and ever single one of them out. Did I mention that waiters love you?



A couple of weeks ago, we came back from Hawaii. I like to call this the saddest day of all of our lives. The day where we had to come back to the concrete jungle of Dallas and leave the laziness of Hawaii behind. I was particularly nervous about the eight hour flight, even though I knew you were a good flyer, I figured that being pregnant, I wouldn't be able to get drunk should you decide not to be good. But you were kind as always, once you took over your aunt's window seat, since the airline had the gall to stick us in the middle of the plane, where you couldn't see out the window, which is a little like telling you that there's a dog laying there, and you can't do a belly flop on him.



The one flight where you acted up was on the last leg of our very long return flight. As your father and I had barely slept on the Hawaii-Denver flight, we both ended up falling asleep a few minutes after the drink cart had come by. I must have been asleep maybe 15 minutes when the flight attendant shook me awake to tell me that you had spilled a drink.

I turned to you in your window seat and right away noticed that you had tried to dump an entire can of apple juice, my glass of water and my large McDonald's (no longer hot, thank goodness) tea into one tiny airplane glass. And you'd done this with the glass perched between your thighs, so that you and the seat were both floating in what appeared to be gallons of fluid. You sheepishly grinned at me and said "I made a mess!" like you couldn't believe such a thing could happen and it was this proud moment in your life.



My favorite moment of the past month is when you made me cry. Isn't that the kind of thing that moms love to say to their children? But you did, you actually made me cry, big fat tears streaming down my face. Your father was at class that night, and you and I were dancing away to a Nickelback song on the radio. You were dancing like a mad man in front of the television set, your whole body hopping around the room. I was doing my thing from the comfort of the couch, singing at the top of my lungs. Suddenly, you looked over at me and your whole face lit up with love. You ran over to me and shouted "I have to kiss my Mama!" and then you planted a kiss on me that warmed me all the way to my toes. You grinned at me and said "I love you Mama!" and that's when I lost it. And for the record, I'm welling up again just at the memory. You looked at me, grabbed my face and said "Oh Mama, don't cry! Why you sad?" And I tried to tell you that I wasn't sad, that I was just happy, too happy and that you were the sweetest thing in the whole wide world. You nodded at me and said "Yeah, I pretty sweet."



And you know what? You're more than pretty sweet. You're like 29 pounds of sugar coated in chocolate with a layer of pure heaven. I never, ever imagined when I was pregnant with you that motherhood would ever be this great. I just figured, cool, we'll have a baby, and he'll be cute, and I'll dress him up in cute clothes and I will love him. But I didn't, in my wildest dreams, imagine that my life as a mother would be this mosaic of moments so intense and so magical that I would feel like nothing could ever top this happiness.



You're all about your friends these days. Even if you haven't seen one of your really good buddies in a month, you'll suddenly say to me "I want to play with I." Or "I want SD to come over." I think that you're like your father in a lot of ways. You don't talk about the kids at school very much, and I sometimes worry if you are making friends. Your dad, he has a few close friends and he figures his plate is full, he doesn't need to make any more. Me, well, I'm the sociable one of the couple we'll say. But I think that you, my quiet, thoughtful child take after your father and has decided that you have a few great friends outside of school, so no need to make more. Even if you do see those other kids five days a week.

You have been known for asking me left-field questions this month. A few weeks ago, you were quiet in your tub and all of a sudden you said "Mama, are you a cow?"



I stared at you for a minute, trying to figure out who you would have heard calling me such a terrible thing. Speechless, I finally just repeated your question "am I a cow?" You laughed uproariously and said "NO! You're not a cow! Are you a chicken?" And that's when I realized that no, you were just in fact playing one of those crazy toddler games that even the Game Show Network would pass on. This week, you asked me if I were a whale. Luckily, I now know not to get offended anymore.



You do like to point out on a regular basis though that you're little and that I'm big. "You're big! You're Big Mama! Are you a Big Mama?" And if I try to tell you that it's not nice to call people big, you tell me "but you're big! You're Mama and you're big! I'm little! I have little feet, you have big feet. I have a little belly, you have a big belly." Can we work on your women speaking skills before you turn 15? Because they don't have basements in Texas houses, so you really can't live with us after college, ok?



The other day I asked you if you wanted to talk to the baby in my belly. You said "sure!" and lifted my shirt up. You yelled "HI BABY!" into my belly button and then paused, looked at me and said "What Little Man say now?" I told you that you should say whatever you wanted to say to the baby. You said ok and then yelled into my belly button "Baby, why you hiding! You cute!" You paused and then said "Little Man cute too. And Little Man pretty sweet too." Which I figure, you might as well start the brainwashing early.

Love,

Catwoman.

20 comments:

Burgh Baby's Mom said...

How do you do that? Go from making me laugh so hard that I cry to being so thoughtful and sweet that you make me cry? You got skillz, wumman, even if you are comprable to animals of increasing girth. I'm looking forward to hearing what he calls you in a few months, once you've outgrown your whale title.

monster's momma said...

aaaaaaadorable! we miss you guys.
:(

Marmarbug said...

Awwww! I agree with BB. You make me laugh and now I am crying. That was so sweet.
It IS amazing isn't it? This motherhood job? I wouldn't trade it for all of the money in the world.

That Chick Over There said...

*sniff*

Cherish it. Every bit of it.

Rachel said...

He's such a modest child isn't he!

But I do love reading these letter each month and he will love them when he is older and has kids of his own! You know. With Alyssa.

Emma in Canada said...

I always have to remind myself that he doesn't actually call himself Little Man.

Boy, he's got some gorgeous blue eyes.

Isn't going Hawaii to Denver and then back south to Dallas a little odd? i often wonder how the airlines work out their flight routes. On a ton of crack and doughnuts methinks.

The Sports Mama said...

I used to live for moments like those when my boys were younger. Now? I get misty when my teenage son sends me a text that says "Love you, Mom"

justmylife said...

*sniff* He is so sweet. I miss those days! My brats are at the age where they live to torment me. He has beautiful eyes! I bet he is hard to say No to, isn't he?

Kathy said...

He's so sweet. We took our kids to Hawaii and did not have nearly the success that you did.

Morgan Leigh said...

How completely adorable. I now miss my children even more.

Blue Momma said...

Those were the best pictures!! I love that last one in particular. I can't wait to see him in real life.

And his fabulous mommy, too, of course.....

Shalini said...

adorable! I love how they make you laugh til your guts feel like they'll burst and then they make you cry tears of joy!

Gerbil said...

That "yeah I pretty sweet" has to be one of the best kid lines EVAH.

Haphazardkat said...

Could your kid be any more freakin adorable???
LOVE the chocolate mouth :)

Julie said...

OMG, that little boy of yours is to die for! : ) And the airplane/drink story - that made me laugh outloud!

squishytushy said...

Damn... your updates leave me hanging my head in shame!!

But first things first... you can actually take little man to restaurants with candles on the table???!!! Impressive!

Kathryn said...

Oh man, oh man. Now I want to bawl. So sweet. Just gorgeous!

Anonymous said...

You always crack me up with your little man stories.

Karen- Mckinney,TX

Rachel said...

Oh he is just too precious for words!

Colleen said...

how adorable! My oldest used to pull up my shirt and scream through my belly to the baby. As my pregnancy progressed, the baby used to jump around anytime he heard Gavin's voice (and since Gavin was belly-height, the baby heard him a lot!).