Friday, April 03, 2009

Forty-Three Months: My Letter to Little Man

Oh what a month it's been my Little Man... With the low lights definitely being your lice infestation and the stomach virus that have left you looking like a child those Christian organizations always want me to adopt for less than the cost of a cup of coffee a day.

Your head had to be shaved. Twice. You've mastered the art of throwing up in a toilet without any of it splashing you in the eye, which means I've filled out applications to the top party colleges already, because you're way ahead of me on that one and surely, that counts for more than those stupid SAT scores.

But there were good times, too. Like how you got to spend a whole week with your Mamou and Dadou (as did your pet lice) and you went to a different fun place every day, which means that last week, after going back to school for four days you asked "when are Mamou and Dadou coming back? How about Friday? Because that works for me."

Not that you didn't show your stubborn side to your grandparents too. You decided that you didn't want to see the monkeys, no matter how much Mamou and Dadou tried to convince you it'd be fun. And then you decided that they shouldn't go see them either, because if there's one thing you like to do, is ensure that if you're not having a good time, then no one's allowed to have a good time. Some might say that this is a fault of yours, but the way I see it, it means you'll be middle management by the time you graduate from college.

You were, however, fascinated by the elephant. Which sounds sweet, of course. But you were fascinated by the giant mammal only because there was the largest pile of poop you'd ever seen in your whole life, and as the elephant walked around his pen, he came dangerously close to stepping in the poop!!!! Which is your equivalent to the most. dramatic. rose. ceremony. ever. to me. And if that Bachelor reference isn't dated by the time you read this and I'm still obsessed with the show, then Little Man, I grant you permission to have me committed.

Which speaking of poop, I can no longer keep track of how often you bring up poop in a typical day. I don't know how it's happened but I freaking live with a boy now. How the hell did this happen? How in the world did you go from this mature two-year old who would discuss Obama and the other Presidents with, to this three-year old who giggles while asking for the umpteenth time "Mama, how do you spell 'poopie head'?"

When you were sick for two days, you were so lethargic and silent, it broke my heart. There you were, all gangly and skinny and pale, laying on the couch by me while I worked. Then that night, I put you to bed, and in the morning, you'd turned back into your normal self. Except that you had all. these. words. pent up in you, that you hadn't used from not talking for two days and you had to get them all out. And so you talked. and talked. and talked. Just this verbal barrage of words. and more words. and even more words. I felt like no amount of sandbags could stop your flood of words and eventually, my brain folded up into itself to get away from all those words while we were driving in the car. But as soon as you'd notice, you'd yell at me "I'm talking to you, Mama! You need to talk to me!" And then you'd continue, just word, after word, after word.

I have no idea where you get this from.

Ok. I do. This is where someone would make a lame mention of an overused analogy about apples falling and trees.

Your father shaved your beautiful hair off. I guess buzzed is the proper term. Either way, your gorgeous hair? It's gone. We had to, because of the lice, so just be grateful you aren't a girl, because your life at school would be a lot more difficult right now if you were born the opposite sex.

There are no pictures yet of the new haircut, simply because it was horrid. Your father and aunt tried cutting chunks of hair out that had nits before settling on buzzing it, and so for a few days, you looked like you'd gotten into a fight with a weedwhacker.

Have I told you lately that we're still kind of new to this parenting gig?

Your relationship with your brother has blossomed these past few weeks. He's in total awe of you, and you love nothing more than to make him laugh. The other day, we were at the pharmacy, Tiny Man in his car seat in the cart, you walking along us. At the cash register, you asked me if you could play with Tiny Man, so I took his car seat and put him on the ground. You began making funny noises and he laughed, which made you laugh, which made him laugh again, until you were both laughing at each other so hard, that the whole store turned around to watch the two of you. It was one of those perfect moments, the kind you want to bottle, the kind that for a moment, made the world a brighter day. My heart swelled, and I watched the people around us, and their faces brightened up, their step seemed a little lighter, and it was all because of the two of you.

In a world, that can be filled at times with sadness and heartbreak, you and Tiny Man continue to bring joy to everything you touch. You've both made my life so much better and every day, I should wake up and thank you for that.

So thank you.

I love you, my Little Man,


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Loukia said...

Lordy girl, you always make me teary and I'm at work! NOT GOOD for my co-workers to see me cry! But seriously! Beautiful post, yet again. I can relate to so many of the things you say. OMG where did they learn to TALK SO MUCH! And the why why why... so cute! I can picture that scene of your two boys lauging back and forth at eachother. Now, isn't that a PERFECT moment? Like, why can't all moments be like that? Seriously, treasure that! And your son is SOOOO GORGEOUS I am sure he looks totally good still with his shaved head. But I panic when my boys get a regular haircut, so I can understand how you feel. Anyway, keep enjoying your little angels! :)

Anonymous said...



You proved you're a better parent than me.

I likely would have accepted the lice into the family. Probably would have served them punch and cookies.

Burgh Baby said...

I. am. itchy. Very itchy.


Susan said...

What a great post! I started to type out my favorite lines but there are too many! Hysterical!!

David said...

Aww...sorry about the lice, but the weedwhacker photo would have been priceless. I know exactly what you mean about one getting the other laughing, too. It just makes everything good, you know?

the planet of janet said...

lice????? argghhhhhhhh....

although i will say that i managed 23 years of parenting before i had a case of lice in my house... and then? we. couldn't. get. rid. of. it.

roo's hair was down to her waist.

thanks for reminding me of this.

Emma in Canada said...

Listen to me....tea tree oil. One application kills the lice (and I swear the nits too), you spend a couple of days picking the nits out and then you do one more tea tree oil treatment. I could have saved you the pain of shaving his head.

Though I bet he looks adorable!

Kila said...

What is it with boys and poop? Mine are ages 11, 9, 6, and nothing is funnier to them than poop.

Karen Cupcake said...

Love using "poop" and toots in my busines..hahaha.. makes the little boys laugh every time! :O)
YOU must bring me those babies of yours for pictures.. come on... I have lots of clients out in your area!! I am dying to meet you guys!
My Sweet boy is all grown up and 18 years old... sniffle.. and yours reminds me SO much of him!