It IS a beautiful week

Going a week past my due date is not easy.

People have expectations that I have not met.
They have schedules that I have complicated.
It's hard to walk.



When the delivery person asked if I was Amy and handed this to me, I was surprised and delighted. There was no name on the card, but the message was optimistic and happy and comforting. It is the most beautiful bouquet I've ever seen.

Thank you, secret-flower-sender.

Diaper Cream Does Double Duty

Parental Pride Inhibits Safety

Yesterday Jett pushed his chair into the kitchen and then picked it up and set it on the rug in front of the kitchen sink. It took him about five minutes to arrange the chair exactly how he wanted it.

Instead of stopping him, I ran to get my camera, because, look how smart my baby is! Look at his motor control! His climbing ability! His problem solving!



Then he did this, and instead of stopping him, I just stood there, impressed.



You have to wonder if I'm going to be smarter with the next one.

Cha-cha-cha

Is he running towards me or dancing to me? Doesn't matter, I'm game for either one.

Twenty-three Months

Happy Birthday, Jett! Yesterday you turned twenty-three months old.

(and now you pick out your own clothes)

What obsessions do you have this month, you ask? Oh the usual....

Elmo. What is it with Elmo and toddlers? You loved Elmo before you ever saw him on TV. You've never had an Elmo toy. You have two books where Elmo makes an appearance, and one Elmo sweatshirt, and that was enough to seal the addiction. Maybe it has something to do with that name. Elmo. It's so easy to say. And thanks to Tivo, Elmo is easy to watch.

(You also love playing with spoons - and water. But maybe the tongs aren't such a good idea).

Pushing the stroller. Or as you like to say, "Jett's car." You will push your umbrella stroller everywhere. Anywhere. In the grass, on the sidewalk, down the center of the street. Ironically, the only time you stop pushing the stroller is when we cross the street and cars are waiting for us. Then you stop half way across, look up at the car's fender, and are struck still - mesmerized by the shiny metal, I guess. Of course if we try to hurry you along by pushing the stroller ourselves, you throw a fit. If we pick you up, you throw a fit. As a result, we try to stay off the busy streets.



My favorite - jumping! You're jumping now! Jumping with two feet off the ground at the same time! You are so proud about it, you jump all over the place now - from your bedroom to the bathroom to your highchair, out of your highchair, to the couch, back to your bedroom. And the look on your face - one big, proud grin. I love it. You love it. On with the jumping!

(This isn't a picture of you jumping, just standing, but I love your wrinkly jeans, t-shirt, and shoes).

Jett, I could go on and on and on. You are a terrific kid. You keep up the fantasticness, and we'll keep trying to just keep up. Love you, happy kid!

Don't ask.

If you go out to dinner with your friends, and you come home to an exhausted and frustrated husband, you should not ask him how his night was, because you will not want to hear the answer.

You will not want to know that your child went to bed at 9:30 pm, after eating dinner at 8:00 pm, after refusing to come inside, after pushing his stroller all over the neighborhood, after the dad had to clean off the child's hand with the dad's own spit, after the child put his hand in somebody else's puke on the playground.

Thankfully this did not happen on Mother's Day.

Evening Conversation

Worth 399 pennies

This afternoon Jett and I walked to the drug store to buy some last-minute supplies for the baby. Translated, this means diaper cream for the baby, and handful of toys to keep Jett occupied for at least the first fifteen minutes after we bring the baby home.

At the drug store, in on of my many lapses of judgement, I bought Jett this.



If you would have seen his face, you would have bought it for him too. He tossed the Elmo coloring book out of the stroller for this. He asked for it nicely. His face lit up. He said something about Daddy. He clutched it in his hands the entire walk home.

It's a complete choking hazard, and both the reclining seat-back and the movable kickstand have fallen off already. It was a foolish purchase.

After dinner Jett and I sat down on the kitchen floor to take a careful look at the motorcycle. We spent ten minutes looking at it from every angle. Jett talked about it the entire time - I just wish I knew what he was saying. I don't think we've ever had a conversation as long as this one, and never a conversation as serious. I swear he was pointing out every part of the motorcycle to me. The spinning tires, the movable handlebars, the kickstand, the taillight, the headlight, the engine, the everything. We talked about the color, we ran it over the floor and over our legs and up the side of the trash can. We took it to the bathroom with us to brush our teeth, and he held on to it through his diaper change, his change in to his pajamas, and through his bedtime stories.

Through the four bedtime stories we read (actually, we read the same book four times, at Jett's request), I kept reminding him that he couldn't take the motorcycle to bed, he can only take books to bed. Whenever I said that, Jett would pick up the motocycle, tilt his chin down, and look over his eyelashes at me with a little sly smile. I was steeling myself for an argument.

Finally when it was time for Jett to get in his crib, I suggested that he say good night to the motorcycle and put it away. He smiled at me and didn't move. So I suggested that he give the motorcycle a good night kiss and then put it away. That's when he surpassed my wildest expectations and gave me something to brag about.

Oh the sweet kiss he gave his motorcycle, barely there. Then the way he looked at me, like the three of us - Jett, the motorcycle, and I - were sharing a sweet secret.

I couldn't have asked for more. He got up, opened his bedroom door, and set the motorcycle on the floor outside of his room. He took two steps back, waved his hand at the motorcycle, and said "Bye-bye, Mo."

Then I put him in his crib, he went right to sleep, and once again, despite my poor decision making, I get to feel like the best mom in the world.

What All the Stay-At-Home-Moms Know

No baby yet, but I've started my maternity leave. Even though I've always had my Fridays off to spend with Jett, there's something about having Monday and Tuesday off that really makes you feel like a stay at home mom. Or maybe it's the lessons I've learned in the last two days:

1. If you leave the house, there will be less mess to clean up at the end of the day.

2. If you go to the park after 4:00, it is going to be chaotic. This is because the park will be over run by eight and nine year olds in after-school programs. These eight and nine year olds will think nothing of running in to your almost two year old.

3. When there are that many unsupervised older kids at the park, parents of the little kids get nervous. Parents will take your child's hand and hurry him across the draw-bridge, even though you are standing right there, next to your child. They will also scold their own two-year-old for not saying "excuse me". It's just better to go to the park during school hours.

4. It it's 80 degrees out and your child wants to wear his winter cap outside, you might as well let him, because it's so darn cute. He'll take it off after 5 minutes anyway.

5. Bringing chalk to the playground is a great way to make friends, as long as you aren't particular about getting all of your chalk back.