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Posts Tagged ‘toddler’

6.22.15 Forrest with bubbles

I wrote this 7 months ago.  Not sure why I never posted it, but my have times changed:

On Saturday morning I was woken from a dead-to-the-world sleep by a loud voice blaring from the monitor:

MOMMA!  WHERE ARE YOU?!  GO DOWNSTAIRS!!

By the time I stumbled out of bed, grabbed my glasses and made a pit stop he was down to yelling Momma! while alternating with whining.  When I walked in his room the whining cut right off and he sat up and said “Baby little crying.”  Yup, sounds like it, kid.  It was a cheerful morning so after we grabbed his two blankets he waved at his bed, saying “By crib, night-night,” then told me “Go downstairs!”

We settle on the couch to watch “elephant, giraffe, monkey” – an episode of Chuggington that has the aforementioned trio.  We discuss “monkey scared?” and “train scared?” because they do indeed scare each other before all is resolved.  Before the 30 minutes was up, he turned around on my lap to implore “fruuiiits?” with a sweet smile.  Fruits are fruit snacks.  When I say OK he slides down onto the floor, saying “I beat you!” as he runs for his little table and chair in the dining area.  Up he climbs on the chair, pulling his table to him with a squeal on the hardwood floors.

I bring over a packet of fruit snacks along with his milk and water.  He already knows to look for the little slice in the wrapper to pull open the package – I showed him once, and that’s all it took.  He happily starts eating his fruits as I putter around the kitchen, asking “Do you want a banana?  Some toast?  Some crunchy cereal?” Sometimes he’ll respond “No, no, nooooo” and be perfectly happy with just Fruits, other times he wants it all, and often eats it all.  Lately he asks for “pbutter toast?”

After breakfast we head upstairs so I can take a shower.  Our bathroom holds a loud dumptruck, 4 pull-back cars, a set of three stacking cars, and a plastic piano that plinks like no-one’s business.  I once gave him a set of hair chopsticks to use with the piano so he opens my drawer at the sink to dig those out as I remind him “Just the sticks.  The rest isn’t for you to play with.”  I’m still amazed this usually works.

I shower with the door open while he plays, often narrating his actions or singing as he plays on the piano…

Now Forrest is almost 3.  He has his own bedroom and big-boy bed, we have a relatively stress-free bedtime (hard fought and hard won, and NEVER taken for granted!), and when he wakes up in the morning he runs upstairs to find me.  Usually before 6:00am.  Sigh.

He gets his own fruits now from the pantry, and sometimes his own crackers.  If he could reach the cereal he could take care of that too.  Same with the milk.  I’m not ready for his complete access to a jug of milk…

He has a funny sense of humor, laughs at the pratfalls in his cartoons, and deliberately makes the wrong sound for the animals in his books, or says things like “E is for apple!” and laughs.  He writes his numbers and the alphabet already.  I find that shocking, but he often wants to play with sidewalk chalk when we get home in the evenings and often wants to write letters so we do.  He also started drawing pictures of his own things – a bat!  and elephant with one leg!  A hippo, and those are his little eyes!  He lives for playing outside, and we can let him play a bit on his own now with monitoring and a willingness to sweep all the gravel off the driveway.

He’s growing so fast.  Every day he changes a little and grows more and makes life connections.  I miss him from 7 months ago, I miss him as a tiny little guy, but I wouldn’t change now for anything.

We love you, Forrest!

 

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Us at 33 months

I’m not sure what time warp I’ve been in that allowed 3 weeks to pass without posting (Instagram, I’m looking at you), but wow.

Hi!  I miss you!Wild iris crop

I’ve been walking, snapping the occasional photo (bumper crop of wild iris this year like whoa), putting my studio back together, falling off the wagon of healthy eating and climbing back on again (hard to fit on there sometimes around the chocolate, but I try), and fighting with a 2-year-old about who gets to set bedtime.  More on that later this week.

Crazy hair

We’ve been on a playground tour to find the best slides and playgrounds in the area (and run off some energy on a weekend, please, oh please don’t give up your nap yet!), which has been fun but he doesn’t like the super-fast, super-wide 30-foot slide that’s closest to home.  Not yet, anyway.

30 foot slide

This was before he went down the first time (“Yah!  Slide!!”).  Daddy took him again but that was enough for sure.  Do you know a lot of playgrounds now have these big net sphere things for kids to crawl on/over/through – see upper right – that are darn hard to get through as an adult?  And that’s safer than a tire swing?

Writing his name

We’ve also been playing with chalk in the evening, drawing letters and shapes and “Momma, a jellyfish!”  Evenings are tough for me – I feel like it’s a mad rush to get home, get some play in, get some dinner eaten, and get him to bed at a reasonable time to get him enough sleep to start again at 6:00 the next morning.  Let me tell you, sleep is a hot commodity these days.

Silver linings

But there’s always a silver lining – the love in my household is strong and real and makes everything else fall by the wayside.  Can’t beat that for anything.

What have you been up to these past few weeks?

 

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9 mo crop 2

Almost 2 years ago we sat in the front yard when it wasn’t quite warm enough to enjoy, for “9-month” pictures.  I loved this orange top.  His pants were too short.  I forget how little hair he had, and how cute the pudge was, and that he would curl his toes in when he sat.

32 months

Last weekend while out running errands, grocery shopping, and living the weekend life, I decided an iced latte was a good idea.  We pulled up to Human Bean, which Forrest recognized as where we had a “juice!” smoothie probably the weekend before, so I ordered a little one for him.  Wearing his orange cape from Grandma, with his balloon from Fred’s and now a “juice!,” this kid was happy as a clam.  I told him to dink his juice slowly, “or my head hurts!” he said.  Yup.  My heart was bursting wide open.

A couple days ago we were driving home, close to Human Bean, and Forrest said, “Momma, you want a coffee?  I want a juice?”

“No, I’m good sweetie.”

“You want a coffee?”

“No, thank you.  Not right now.”

“I want a juice?”

“No, night tonight.”

“I want a juice!”

“I know you do sweetie but juice is a treat.”

(pause)

“I want a treat?”

(I had to choke back a laugh, smart kid)

“No, not this time sweetie.  If we get it all the time it’s not a treat.”

(big pause)

“Oh.  Otay.”

 

Gosh I love this kid.  Can’t wait to see what the next 2 years brings.  = )

 

 

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2.8.15 ForrestHe can be such a stinker, until he’s sick then he’s such a cuddle-bunny… and I miss the stinker.  Even when he’s taller than me and weighs twice as much as I do, when he has children of his own, forever and always he’ll be my most treasured Tiny Treasure.

xoxoxo

 

 

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Almost 2.5 1.24.15

The sun was shining so we headed for the playground in town.  We don’t live close to one so I don’t take him as often as I should – sometimes I think I’m stunting his growth in the world of climbing and jumping and taking risks, but I do what I can do.

Can I take a picture?  I said, standing at the bottom of the big slide watching his hair standing static-straight; he chose this pose, utterly relaxed and looking just like me and his daddy at the same time.  He’s 2 1/2 years old on Saturday.  2.5 years since he went from the bumps and wiggles and hiccups inside to the smiles and wiggles and yells and frowns outside.

The basics: he’s 37 1/2″ tall, about 32 pounds.  He’s long-waisted like me, and has monkey arms inherited from both of us.  During his second big-boy haircut a couple weeks ago I realized the last of his baby blond is almost gone.  He was never a tow head like dad, but obviously didn’t get my curly black either, and now he’s growing into his own shade.  And his grey/blue/hazel/brownish eyes are going definitely brown…hazel…brownish/hazel.  We both have brown so anything else was a long shot.  He’ll eat about anything you’ll give him (especially yogurt, Cuties, fruit snacks and cucumber slices) though he’s turned his nose up at curried chicken soup and chicken bacon artichoke pizza.  Silly child.

Almost 2.5 on playground

He’s so sweet, and so ornery at the same time.  In the span of 5 minutes he will politely say thank you as I hand him a cookie then smash said cookie and throw half across the table with a shriek of  laughter.  I still carry him downstairs from his crib almost every morning and if I bump the door on the way out he’ll say “sorry mommy” and pat my arm gently.  Lately he throws his arms wide and flies my direction for LoveLoves (hugs) but refuses most mornings to kiss daddy goodbye as we leave.  He has a bit of a temper.

He counts everything and wonders where the 10 went if there’s only 9 items.  We count together to 50, but he often says “30-ten” instead of 40.  He puts his alphabet puzzle together entirely on his own and points out the letters on iphone games (H for hippo-ottamus!) and signs around town, and when he accidentally makes a 4 in his mustard or a G while sketching on the iPad.  He can run the iPad entirely on his own, which was never my intention but is fabulous when I just need 10 minutes to get something done.  He sings and talks most of his waking hours.  I have a bookcase full of board books he won’t read anymore because he wants to read the Big Books from the library instead – it was a sad day when we had to give back There’s an Alligator Under My Bed.

He LOOOOOOVES Sophia.  And her big long legs.  And her knees.  And her big long elbows.  His go-to is still Chuggington but we’ve been enjoying TinkerBell movies with picnic dinner in front of the couch (I looooove TinkerBell  = ).  I think we’re just about ready to try a movie at the theater.

He has no interest in potty training.  He sits on the toilet every night before bed and I’ve tried bribing with train stickers, but nothing.  I’ve tried explaining that he has diaper rash and it hurts so badly because he didn’t tell mommy his diaper was dirty and he nods in understanding, but… still doesn’t tell me.  When he doesn’t want to be in bed at night or for a nap he often yells “Mommy, daddy, dog-dog!” and “I have a poopy diaper!”  He seems to be giving up his daily nap.  Arrrgh.

Almost 2.5 on slide

Even on the days when I’ve had to push him out the door, stomping and crying, because I’m not going to be late for work so he can watch another episode of Doc McStuffins, I can’t help being incredibly in love with this kid.  His smile lights up the room.  His crying can break my heart.  When he reaches for my hand I have to remind myself that we, Matt and I, made this little miracle of a child together, and he’s our to keep.

Remind me of all of this when he’s 15, okay?

 

 

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smile for mommy - 17 mo

It’s hard to get a good picture of Forrest these days because he’s always moving.  Here you see me holding his hand to stop him for a moment while I quickly take a photo with the other hand, as he of course focuses on everything but me and the camera…

I’m learning a lot from and about the little man of the house these days.  Monday on the way home I had a big Ah-ha.  You see, when I picked him up from daycare he was in a pretty small room with 2 adults and 7 other kids his age and slightly older, all running around in various states of action, volume and discontent at 5:00 on a Monday evening… it was chaos.  Instead of running over for a hug he ran over to get his jacket.  He wanted out of there, and I couldn’t blame him.  That got me thinking about an ongoing trend lately of super-clingy evening whines that I’ve been attributing to a phase of toddler life but no, here’s my ah-ha:

I think he’s an introvert.  He does fine in that classroom chaos while he’s there but when he gets home he needs down time, and quiet time, and some serious one-on-one time with HIS adult person – me.  There’s very little one-on-one time at school.  I’m his current base and anchor when life is overwhelming.  If I take the time when we get home to sit with him for a while, to cuddle and watch some TV until he’s ready to get up and play, the clinging and whining go down drastically.

He’s not clingy and whiny on Tuesday and Thursday nights when he’s been with the Grands all day, because he has a day full of one-on-one and a general lack of chaos, and it’s not so overwhelming.  In fact those days when he gets home he’s often a little firecracker of energy – Grands are all well and good but being home with his stuff, his toys, his dog-dog, brings on the energy.

Lets not play in that - 17 mo

I’ve also changed up our bedtime routine to include playing the “get-you” chase game up and down the hall as long as he lasts or 20 minutes, whichever comes first, before we brush our teeth, gather up the animals (we’re up to 4-5 stuffies at a time now which makes for interesting times…), kiss daddy and head upstairs for a little TV time and couch-wiggling before bed.  I also cracked down on putting him to bed at 9:00 on the dot (and I’ll gradually move this up to 8:30), *without* rocking him to sleep, and results have been mixed so far: day one, cried 15 minutes; day two, cried for 20 because he threw up watermelon all over his lap and bed so he was wet and miserable and I won’t be feeding him that much watermelon again even though he loves it; day three, I put him down in the crib under his pile of stuffies and he was asleep in that same position an hour later when I checked, no crying or objecting at all; we’ll see what happens tonight.

Wait for me - 17 mo

My focus on Abundance these days makes me remember to be more patient (abundant time in the day, right?), which means when he objects strenuously to shoes the first time I wait a few minutes until his mind is on something else and then he’s perfectly happy to put on shoes rather than screaming and crying and yelling Noooo.  Win, win!  I also stopped trying to change his diaper first thing when he’s barely awake, which was a knock-down, drag-out struggle some mornings but I was set on doing it, darnit anyway…so now I bring him downstairs with his clothes and diaper and he’s perfectly willing to lay on the couch and watch morning TV while I change the diaper and dress him for the day.  We aren’t late for daycare or work, the world hasn’t ended because his diaper was wet a little longer, and we’re both in a better mood to start the day.

He has opinions, I have opinions, and they don’t always have to clash.  I’m the adult so in the end I get my way, but I’m the adult so I know when to bend or wait, push or stall.  He can’ t be the loser all the time – we all need to get our way sometimes, right? – especially if MY taking a little time to adjust makes all the difference.

What are you going to teach me next, little man?

 

 

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