The “whatever” it is that has kept me from keeping up on the blog has, also, kept me from tracking some pretty cool things about my kids’ development, milestones, and adorable idiosyncrasies. The purpose of blogging, for me, is twofold . . . to share with you, and to share with me and Josh and our increasingly forgetful brains.
Is it possible to backtrack, and document a year’s worth of firsts and “oh my goodness, did you hear what your child just said” moments? Absolutely not. But, here’s to trying, and to not giving my 2nd-born any reason to think that we loved him less😉 .
In his most intense, giddy moments, he will move his body, and flail his arms in a “dance”, resembling what one might imagine a cavemen, or the Hunchback of Notre Dame, to move like. In these moments, he will also purse his lips together and talk very “seriously” as well. He says he wants to do ballet like his sister, but I don’t see our little Quasimodo pointing his toes any time soon.
He is the messiest little booger at the dinner table. I’m certain that most of that can be contributed to typical 2-yr-old behavior. Still, daily, I am blown away at what a mess he’s capable of dishing out. What’s more humorous, is that sitting next to Mr. Tasmanian Devil, is his sister, who squirms if she gets peanut butter on her hands, and insists on eating most finger-foods with a fork.
Our little guy has started to say “I love you” on his own, and not in response to our sentiments. Its in moments when I can tell that all is right in his little toddler world . . . and usually after being handed a fresh, cold, sippy-cup of milk. He’s also very cordial, especially in the morning, to whoever comes to rescue him from his crib. “Good morning, Daddy.” “How are you?” “Oh Mommy, I like your shirt…its beautiful.”
He runs pretty fast, and rides his bikes like a maniac. He can’t peddle yet, and has no interest in trying. But he Flintstone’s his way down a hill way faster than I can keep up, and it beyond thrilled when his bike crashes into the bushes. Its official, he’s all boy . . . and we’re in for it.
Sweet boy is seriously attached to me, and I am eating up every leechy moment. For being pretty audacious, he’s also pretty sensitive. He cries whenever another little person cries, gets his feelings hurt when a toy is taken, and calls for me a lot, especially when its bedtime. Josh has made a little game of asking if he can put him to bed, knowing full well that Zack prefers for me to do it. Josh will persist and Zack will say, “Mommy read a dory . . . you put Abby to bed”. Josh will insist once more, and Zacky’s little hand will reach out and nudge (not hit) Josh, and lean in closer to me. I just smile smugly at Josh, and breathe in the smell of my little cling-on.
He loves to sing, and will still serenade us from his bedroom, sometimes, for entire naptimes. When the singing is over, he is very eager to get our attention (through his bedroom’s accordion wall) by hollering “Mom!!! Can you get me?!?!” or “I want to talk to you!”
He loves cranes (trains) and crucks (trucks) . . . so much so, that about 57 times a day, he will ask a willing family member to get down and play cars or trains with him. Thomas the Tank Engine is his very favorite TV show, followed closely by Gay Gay the Getplane (Jay Jay the Jetplane), both of which have, according to Zack, very catchy and very singable theme songs.
Zack absolutely idolizes his sister, and each night when I ask him who loves him, his first response is always, “Abby”. Most of the time I believe his sister loves him back, but she’s also smart enough to know she has him wrapped pretty tightly. She can manipulate him like Play-Doh when it comes to a toy of his that she wants. But, she really loves him so deeply, and I’m finding her more and more, genuinely concerned for his well-being. Whenever they are apart, they ask about the other, and are happiest in all the world (as in uncontrollable giggle happy) when they are chasing and wrestling each other.
Is all girl. With the exception of her shameless obsession with flatulence and her bare bottom (thanks Josh), she is an emotional, tender-hearted, feminine, whimsical little girl. I am really trying to take mental pictures of this time, because the imagination of a 4-yr-old girl is like no other. In one instant, she is a monster, the next she is a baby, the next a mother . . . a grandmother . . . a kitty . . . a pirate, and so on. I’m finding that Abby has a gift of orchestrating (not to be confused with being a little bossy) her friends into games of salon, or kitties, or the classic “baby-princess” (the role of said baby-princess is usually played by Abby herself . . . of course).
She is my helper. Having the kids pretty close together hasn’t been without obvious challenges, but now she loves helping me and feeling responsible for her brother and household. She and I are trying to get into a new pattern of cleaning up her stuff (me not picking up after her so much, and she taking responsibility for her messes), and its been going so well. Now, the challenge is me taking as much pride in my bedroom as she does in hers.
After, apparently, giving it up for Lent some 2 years ago, Abby has started eating again. Our picky-as-all-get-out preschooler has been chowing down on everything in sight. Ironically, this is happening at the same time that her brother is beginning to forfeit meals for driving his cars all over the house. At least we know, now, that in 2 years, he may one day start enjoying non-processed, non-sugary foods again.
The Asthma monster has, apparently, made a home in Abby’s lungs as well. We’ve known about Zack for a while, but its become clear that neither of my kids have escaped their family heritage of poor-breathing. Abby is now doing breathing treatments daily, will begin allergy testing next week, all in hopes of avoiding another, very sick Williams’ winter. Like her brother, she’s a trooper, but we look forward to the time when we have her little system figured out so we can avoid missing preschool and playdates like we have had to.
She is almost enjoying preschool. She’s missed quite a few class days, so has only begun building relationships. But she’s getting more comfortable, and especially enjoys when the sun is shining and there’s nobody on her swing. When her daddy picks her up in the afternoon, he finds her in the same place each day . . . in her own world, swinging and singing away. She also just learned how to cross the monkey bars, a feat which she has challenged herself with for a while now. I am so proud of her. She has persevered with the monkey bars, so I know she will come to love school soon.
Abby is so grown up. Physically, she is on the tall side, which only adds to her dad’s and my angst. Then, when she says things like, “I’m just a little bit exasperated” in response to being reprimanded, a parent can’t help but cringe at how quickly this ride is going. She’s my little buddy. The other day, I was out on a pretty tough walk, and the last tiny hill to our neighborhood was killing me. Abby leaned out of the stroller, and chanted, “Go, Mommy, go!” then, “I believe in you Mommy. I know you can do it!” Then after I came to, “Look Mommy, you persevered!” I love my little cheerleader!
Both my kids have beautiful, curly hair, which on a good day, stops people in their tracks, soliciting the question “Where did they get their hair?” On a bad hair day, however, the tone of that question sounds a bit different, as the kids’ hair begins the process of dreading with 5 minutes of a bath. Abby’s hair, in particular, can be a point of contention some mornings, as brushing it out it necessary . . . and painful for both of us. I’m always shocked to hear “Ow!” come from my baby’s mouth in the same cadence that a 14-yr-old might sass her mother.
As grown-up as my baby is getting, she still loves being sung to and rocked to bed, is attached to her white “binky” like Linus, thinks that anything that occurred before the present happened “last year” and any impending event will take place after naptime, and screams her way through the dark hallway (creating a domino effect of screams between she and her brother, usually ending in tears).
Well, in a nutshell, there’s the “right now” of our little ones. Hope you enjoyed reading, and so thankful I got it all down before my silly, sleepy brain let it slip through its brain fingers.