Scary Dreams

Dear Drake,

Right now, while you are four years and four months old, you are crawling into bed with us almost every night. Anywhere from about an hour after your Dad and I go to sleep, to 15 minutes before we have to get up in the morning. Sometimes I hear you wake up, obviously sad or scared from some unpleasant dream and sleepily welcome you into my arms when you show up at the foot of our bed. Other times, I roll over in the night and discover your small body sleeping next to me since who knows when. As squishy as it can be, and as much as I do not like your feet in my face, as you are known to do, I love it. I love how much you love to cuddle, and will be profoundly sad when the day comes that you decide you have outgrown it.

A couple of nights ago, Dad was away for work. You came into bed with me almost immediately. I don't think I had even fallen asleep when I heard you crying upstairs. I came up and found you wandering around the kitchen, half asleep and whimpering. I scooped you up, you wrapping your long limbs around me and resting your head on my shoulder, and carried you down to my bed. I think we both sleep better together, which might have something to do with the 14 months you spent sleeping in our bed after you were born. We cuddled straight through the night.

Somewhere around 5 in the morning, you woke us up with a scream that peeled through the dark room. The kind of gut wrenching wail that tears a person out of some terrifying nightmare. "NoooOOOOOOOOO!!!!" you screamed. "NO CHEESE IN MY QUESADILLA!"

It still makes me giggle. I am sorry you were scared, but good grief, Son. That is what scares you most?! Food. Our biggest struggle with you. The never-ending, completely nonsensical battle. You love tortillas. You love cheese. But how dare someone put cheese in your tortilla! Silly boy.

I related the story to Daddy, and he laughed, of course. As we chuckled together, it occurred to me that you really ARE the product of our marriage. Your Dad and I, we were meant for each other. We are best friends, and each other's perfect counterpoints. He keeps me steady, and I keep him dreaming. We support each  other. We make each other laugh. We communicate patiently. I'm telling you this to try to make your understand that your Dad and I are very well matched - in all ways but one: food.

I'm the hippie who wants everything to be non-GMO, organic, whole grain, pasture fed, locally raised, whole foods. I believe just about every issue we have with our bodies can be addressed by what we put into it, and that processed foods are the root of all evil. I was a vegan when I met your Dad. Your Dad, most decidedly, was not. The joke is that he is my Southern boy who likes fried chicken. The truth is something a little less stereotypical than that - for both of us -  but is certainly marked enough that it was the subject of much teasing from our friends when we first got together. "That will be the only thing they ever fight about," friends would say with laughing eyes, as your Dad joked about wanting to fry a Twinkie and I freaked out a little. And then we got married, and we made you, and here you are: a funny, sweet boy, a good communicator, a loving member of our family with whom our only fight is food.

Funny how life works.

I do hope to be able to teach you healthy habits and that you carry into your life a strong understanding of the way to nourish your body. In the meantime, I'm going to do my best to remember that this is the dynamic I created, and deliver my admonitions with laughing eyes.

I love you young man. I can't wait to cuddle you again tonight. I hope your dreams are full of grapes with no seeds and apples that have had every molecule of peel removed and absolutely no brown spots and that your cheese is safely separate from your tortilla.

Kisses,
Mom

I Can't Benemba Lasterday

Of all the reasons I wish time would slow down, all the precious pieces of my son's childhood that I wish I could preserve like mementos that can be taken out and viewed at will, one of the biggest things is his speech. I don't know why, but nothing else endears me to the wonder of each stage of his life thus far like the words he either mutilates in adorable toddler fashion or nails unexpectedly.

I've called them Drake-isms, and I meant to write more down.

Each hit me as being so uniquely adorable, I ensured myself that there was no way I could forget them. "I'm definitely going to remember that," I would think. "That's one of those moments you just don't forget."

I forgot.

I remember thinking that I would not forget, but I have no idea what I thought I was going to remember. A glance back through this blog recently taught me just how much I have forgotten already. I read multiple posts in which I professed things like, "It will go down as one of the most precious moments of my life, and a memory I will cherish always." And up until I read the post, I had exactly zero recollection of the event.

Ugh.

So I'm not making any promises. I won't swear that I will document every single one from here on out. I've set myself up for that failure a few too many times. But I am going to write about some of the most current ones - right now, today - and if nothing else, at least I will have captured those.

One of Drake's go-to phrases right now is, "I can't benemba." Which, if you can't tell, means, "I can't remember." He uses it for everything.

"What did you do at school today?" "I can't benemba."

"What did I just say?!" "I can't benemba."

"What would you like to eat?" "I can't benemba."

"Why did you do that?!" "I can't benemba."

Listing it like this makes it sound annoying, and at times, I suppose it is. Usually, though, it makes me giggle inwardly at his uniquely "Drake" way of saying things. Picture it with downcast eyes and the slightest shrug of a single shoulder.

Another favorite is "Lasterday," which means, "absolutely anytime that came before this exact moment." It could be last night, it could be last week, it could be at his birthday last month, it could be last Summer when we visited Uncle Trevor's farm.

"I brushed my teeth lasterday!"

"I was three lasterday, and now I'm four, and tomorrow I will be five!"

"I saw those baby chicks at Uncle Trevor's farm lasterday."

The last I'll list for today is "A little help here?!" This one can be a little maddening, as he says it anytime he is asked to do something for himself.

"Drake, take off your boots please." "A little help here?!"

"Drake, pick up your toys please." "A little help here?!"

So yeah, maddening. But also, so distinctly him. Do I wish he would find the drive to accomplish tasks that most kids are stubbornly insisting on doing for themselves at this age? Sure. But is that about the cutest thing he could say when he feels like he's not capable of something? Yep.

Ok, with those things safely recorded on the world wide web, I'm going to go cuddle him on the couch and crochet while he watches yet another episode of Little Einsteins.

The Runaway

Today I experienced real panic as a mother. I came face to face with the idea of losing my son. He ran away. Just disappeared out of the back yard.

It had already been a rough day, full of tantrums and bathroom accidents. I told him, "Mommy needs a little personal space," and that he could either go play in his room with his toys or go play in the snow in the backyard.  He chose the snow. We bundled him up in his snow bibs and boots and hat and mittens and sent him out into the fenced back yard with the dog, as we've done many times before. He knows he's not supposed to go in the front yard without Mom or Dad. He knows he's not supposed to let Sadie out. So when I stopped hearing the sounds of his play, I didn't think much of it. I assumed he had moved into the lawn area, away from the house, and was happily rolling around in the foot of fluffy stuff we've been blessed with in the last two weeks. After about ten minutes of the silence, I went to check on him.

He wasn't there.

I saw one set of size 10 boot prints and one pair of Boxer paw prints leading away from the yard. My first thought was, "Oh, crap! Sadie!" Our dog isn't the best with other dogs. We had an incident with a neighbor dog once before and I did not want a repeat. I threw on my coat and boots and trotted out the front door, assuming I'd find them loitering in the front yard and that I'd scold my son for doing as he knew he shouldn't and letting the dog out.

They weren't there.

I still wasn't worried. Annoyed, more like. "He's pushing it," I thought, assuming he was in the neighbors yard. Again, no. Thanks to the freshly fallen snow, I could follow his tracks for a moment, but when he joined up with the well-trodden sidewalk, I had no idea which way he had gone. I picked up the pace and started to call for him and the dog.

Nothing. No sounds. No recognizable tracks. No sign of movement in any direction.

Now I was running. Running, and screaming. I ran in a star pattern, unsure which way to go, always returning to the house, praying that somehow he had thought it was funny to hide in the backyard. Neighbors started to notice. I shouted at one woman I'd never met before, "Have you seen a four year old little boy??!!" She just shook her head no. I turned and ran in the opposite direction, now nearing hysteria.

Finally someone who was unloading their car in the driveway right across the street from my own house asked, "Are you looking for your son?" When I shouted that I was, he said, "He just went that way with a dog." I didn't feel grateful. I felt exasperated. How long do you need to listen to a mother scream before you decide to mention that you saw her child? I ran past him with what I can only assume were crazed eyes. As I ran he said, "He said he was going to school. He seemed to know what he was doing." A four year old.

I had already run past the preschool once, having thought of that possibility. He wasn't there. Finally, I saw a woman walking down the alley toward me, holding my son's hand. I almost collapsed.

I was relieved and furious. "Drake!! Where did you go??!!"

"I went on an adventure with my dog," he said. The kind woman said he appeared to be following Sadie. I felt embarrassed, like I needed to explain. Breathless, I said, "He had been playing in the backyard, and then he just wasn't there." She said she understood. That she had a three year old "who's just like that."

"He isn't "like that,"" I thought. "He's never done this before!" But I didn't say it. It seemed rude after her kindness.

As I blustered between gratitude and embarrassment, Drake interjected with heart crushing words, "My home wasn't special anymore. I wandered off to another special place."

I'm not paraphrasing or altering his words in anyway.

"My home wasn't special anymore."

"I wandered off."

I just stared at him, dumbfounded, until he told me he was sorry of his own volition. As the fear drained out of me, the guilt slid in. I should have gone outside with him. I'd been meaning to go out and play in the snow with him for days and still hadn't done it. Childhood should be full of adventure. I should have provided it.

I asked him if he still wanted to go for a walk. We dropped Sadie off in the yard and I put on my hat and boots. I told him I would follow him and he could decide where we went. He held his hands in front of him as if reading a book and said, "My map says to go left... My map says to go right..." And we wound our way through the neighborhood as I felt myself collapsing inward under the unbearable weight of total parenting failure.

It's been a day...

How He Sleeps When He's Sick

Sweet Dreams

Wake up time may vary, and Drake can wake up in a variety of moods, but one thing about our morning routine has been consistent for close to a year now. Since Drake started putting together phrases and short sentences, our first exchange of the day has gone like this:

"Liiiitle Muuuunchkiiin..." as I peek around the door to greet him in his bed. Drake bounces on the mattress, clinging to the red railing and smiling behind his binky. "Good morning my handsome Little Man."

"Moneen, Mommy."

"Did you sleep good?" I ask, as I lift him out of his bed. He wraps his legs around my waist and lays his head on my shoulder, nodding.

"Mm, hm."

"Did you have sweet dreams?" I ask, carrying him to the couch for our morning cuddles.

"Mm, hm."

"What did you dream about?" And then this is my favorite part...

Every day, for who knows how many months now, Drake has responded the same way. "I dweam," he says between yawns, "in my bed."

And that's it. That's all I get. I still have no idea what it is my Little Man dreams about, but there can be no doubt that he does so in his bed. 

3 Years, 3 Weeks, and 3 Days...

I'm gonna say the thing that all parents say: How did this happen?! My little boy is not little at all really. He's big, in so many ways.

He's tall, lanky, and moppy haired. 

When I cuddle him, I can't contain all of him in my arms. His long limbs spill out all over the place. He sits in my lap and rests his head on my shoulder.

He's physically capable of it all now. Running, jumping, climbing - there is no awkward or unsure movement anymore.

He is smart. Too smart, maybe, as he seems to know how to break all the rules and charm his way back into favor. Case in point: I was sternly scolding him the other day, and he simply leaned in and rubbed his nose against mine, "Ugga Mugga, Mommy!" How am I supposed to be mad at that?!

He says he's sorry when I have no idea what he's done.

He still likes to cuddle.

He sneaks his binky out of his bed (it's only supposed to be for bedtime these days) and walks around the house with his hand over his mouth, like I can't tell what he's doing. When I tell him to put it back in his bed, he giggles and says, "Alwight, alwight, alwight!"

He can count to 14. He can say his ABC's. He's 3 feet 2 1/2 inches tall and weighs 32.4 pounds. 

He still refuses to eat meat, and most vegetables, so that's frustrating, but at least he says, "No, danks," when turning down food. And anything else, for that matter. It seems he considers most of what I say merely a suggestion. 

"Come on bud. Let's go brush your teeth."

"No danks!" The manners are nice, but the obedience would be nicer...

He's not potty trained yet, but we're working on that.

He loves to read, and has several of his books memorized.

He loves his Lovey and his Pooh Bear and a rainbow colored unicorn.

He's already embarrassed by his parents when they dance like psychos in the car. "Stop! STOP! No dancin!"

This year, he asked for a costume party for his birthday. Well, not so much specifically for his birthday as much as just every single day after Halloween. I guess he liked Halloween this year. He asked for it over and over again, for weeks. "Oh, have a costume party??" When asked what he wanted to wear to his own costume party, he consistently answered, "A punkin!" On the day of his party, he refused to wear any costume.

Stubborn, opinionated, handsome, funny, frustrating, and immensely lovable. This is my son: aged three years, three weeks, and three days.

Thank you to everyone who came and celebrated his birthday with us. For those of our friends and family that weren't able to make it because of distance or time or just life, I've included a few (er.. a lot of) pictures. You can see we had a little bit of fun with the photo booth... 

Waiting for Santa...

We made our shopping lists for Drake based on our own ideas - the things we anticipated him enjoying and the developmental stages he's coming up on. Educational toys. Books. Christmas jammies, because he grew out of last year's set. At the very last minute, it occurred to me that I should ask him. I wasn't sure if he was old enough yet to actually want something - to know that there was something out there that he didn't have, and to wish he had it - but I wanted to know what he would say.

"Hey buddy, is there anything you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?" I asked.

With wide eyes he answered, "Cwismas!!"

Perfect. Done and done.

In the two weeks since, I've repeated the question, just to see if his answer would change. It didn't. Not until last Sunday, when we went to visit Santa.

"What are you going to ask Santa for?"

"Pwesents!"

Laughing, "Oh yeah? What kind of presents?"

"Pink ones! An' purple ones! An' candy!"

We'll see if Santa got the message.

Drake-isms

"Weeett's DO it!" 

Usually accompanied by a hooked arm/hoe down/fist pump sort of gesture. That's "Let's do it!" with all sorts of two year old emphasis, for those of you who couldn't tell. Similar phrases currently in frequent use: "Wet's go fine it!" and "Go fo it!" So far, I've had zero luck capturing any of them in video, so you'll just have to trust me that it's pretty stinking cute.

Anticipation

When I woke up this morning, I was excited to find it was snowing heavily. I've never minded the snow - and have even been known to gush over the romance of chopping wood on a snowy day for a crackling fire - but now I see the enchantment of those fluffy flakes all the more because of my son. I hurried to his room to get him out of bed, anxious to see his reaction. "Drake!" I said, "It's snowing! Do you wanna come see it?" 

"Uhgay!" he squeeled, jumping up.

I swooped him up and we went to the couch. He stood on the cushions with his elbows propped on the back of the couch and his nose to the window. His eyes were wide with delight at the white world outside. "Is Kissmass snow?!" he asked.

The question surprised me. He'd never shown any understanding of the coming Holidays before. We haven't even been talking about Christmas in the house yet. When I finished giggling over the adorable toddler incorrectness of his question - the simple connection he had made in his brain between snow and Christmas - I explained to him, "Yes, Christmas comes in the winter. But not yet. First we have Thanksgiving, then your Birthday, then Christmas."

To which he responded, "My burfday?!"


My son is anticipating. What a fun thing to watch happen. Last year, he had a good time at his birthday party and at Christmas. He liked the games and the toys and the people and the lights. But he never knew any of it was coming, and not because we hadn't told him. But this year, he is old enough to understand that something fun will be happening soon, but not yet. 

Patience and anticipation. I think that may be at the heart of what I love most about the holiday season. The build up. The excitement. The planning and preparing. And this year, it's even more exciting, because Drake is excited. 

Fixed Up For Halloween

Well, it threatened to go badly a couple of times - like when he fell asleep in the car on the way to Trick or Treating - but in the end we had a pretty great little Halloween. The promise of candy roused him and we even made the busy, crowded Downtown loop without any meltdowns. He handled the phrases "Trick or Treat" and "Happy Halloween!" much more easily than last year and it was incredibly cute to watch. He even started giving people a thumbs up after he saw an adult do it. I was definitely that gushing, proud parent. After our afternoon of Trick-or-Treating, Mommy had to go to work, and Daddy and Drake headed home to pass out candy to the other kids. I understand that Drake called them all his friends, and even passed out candy without Dad once when Justin was in the kitchen. Justin heard Drake's tiny voice say, "Happy Halloween!" and came to the sunporch to see two little girls walking away down the sidewalk. Sweet child of mine.

Our first family costume came together pretty darn great, though not very many people understood it. In case you don't know, it's from the movie Wreck-It Ralph, a super cute kids' movie about video game characters with a life outside of their games. If you've never seen it - you should. If you need an excuse to rent it, borrow a friend's child under the age of 10. But I've never been above a good animated movie myself. Sometimes feeling like a kid is a good thing. But I'm getting off point.
Halloween costumes. Justin was the "bad" guy, Wreck-It-Ralph - a character who destroys buildings with his fists. Drake was the good guy, Fix-It-Felix, who has a magic golden hammer to fix what Ralph wrecks. I was Vanelope Von Schweetz, a character from a candy go-cart game called Sugar Rush.

Putting the costumes together was a fun challenge. I have always preferred the homemade and creative costumes where you find a way to re-create the major elements of a character or idea without simply putting on a replica or mask.

For Drake, he definitely needed a blue ball cap, a golden hammer, and tool belt. The tool belt we had from a Christmas gift from his Papa Rick last year, along with the hammer, which I just lightly sanded and spray painted gold. The blue ball cap we found at a pawn shop, though admittedly, it was a little small. I drew a blue FF on white felt, then colored in a yellow square around it and glued it to the hat. The shirt, jeans, and carpenter boots were all Good-Will finds and are items he can wear over and over, so that's a plus. He was so very handsome in his little contractor outfit. Most people thought he was Tim the Toolman. Oh well. For the ones who "got it," Drake would hold up his hammer and say, "I can fits it!" (Spelling intentional.)

For Justin, big hands were a must, along with overalls and a shiny medal. We found Hulk hands at the same pawn shop, and I spray painted them with a red primer to cancel out the green, and then an off-white. The overalls Justin already owned (and was a very good sport for wearing them! They were insulated Carharts - incredibly hot on a 65 degree day). We bought a red thermal at Good Will and cut the sleeves. For the medal, I taped two yogurt container lids together with electrical tape, wrote the word HERO on one side with hot glue, and the spray painted the whole thing gold. I glued it to nylon strapping I bought at the hardware store. Voila! A "bad" guy who wants to be a good guy.

For myself, I needed a simple green pullover hoodie (so much harder to find than I expected!), a black ruffle skirt, green striped leggings, and candy in my hair. I finally settled on a green hoodie from Good-Will, though it was short sleeve and not quite the right color. I dug through my enormous yarn stash to add some hot pink strings to the hood and the pink XX's on the pocket. The black ruffle skirt I had from the years when I used to dance/perform Latin ballroom. For the green striped leggings,  the closest I could come was tall green and pink striped socks over black leggings. The candy in my hair was the fun part. I hot-glued (thank goodness for my hot glue gun! It got a lot of use this year) Runtz and pinwheel mints to bobby pins that I stuck randomly all over my head. The licorice that she had tied around her ponytail was hard to recreate, because no licorice I found was long enough to do that. In the end, I just stuck a couple of sticks into my bun.

And that was it! Halloween 2014, all wrapped up. What did you do this year? Any fun family costumes? Whatever you did, I hope you had a Happy Halloween, from my family to yours.

Get Ready to Freak Out

From all the cuteness. And the big brains.

All The Leaves

Two things I love immensely: Autumn, and this almost three year old Little Boy.

Some days start better than others...

Some days, my husband has his first flight at 9 a.m. instead of 7, and he has time enough to sit in bed and read to me as we have our first cup of coffee.

Some days, my son asks to read a book first thing in the morning, rather than watch a movie or cartoon.

Some days, that same little boy takes that same book and impresses the heck out of me. He looks at the cover of his favorite book, Green Eggs and Ham, points to the word "Eggs" and says, "E right dere!" Smiling, I point out the G, and he says "gapes," remembering the picture of grapes behind the letter G in his alphabet puzzle. Same with the H: "heeppo!" I fall further in love with the way his little brain works.

Then, to top it off, he opens the book to a random page and says, shaking his head, "Not a box. Not a house. Not a fox. Not a mouse. Nope! Sam. No. No geen eggs and ham."

Some days, my heart gets filled up right from the start. Filled with gratitude and pride.

I think it's going to be a good day.

Hooray!

My son can count to ten all by himself, and his momma is crazy proud of him.

That's all.

A Sunday Well Spent

Coffee and a book.
Small home improvement projects complete with instant gratification.
Sunshine and a run with my husband.
Playing in the grass with our son.
Beers and burgers on the deck with Nana and Baba.
A good shift at work.
Today I am remembering to be grateful for the little things.

How Drake Sleeps

He was complaining that the seatbelt in his carseat hurt his neck, so I handed him this soft beach towel to put between his neck and shoulder. He must have succeeded in making himself comfortable, because he fell straight to sleep after cocooning himself in the thing. I couldn't resist a picture.

This $#!+ is Bananas

When it comes to food, my son is insane. Full on coo coo.
Yesterday, he asked me for a banana. "Bynanat," to be accurate. So, naturally, I snagged a banana, peeled it, and handed it to him. At this point in my relationship with my son, I should not have been surprised by what happened next. He lost it. "Not dis bynanat! DIS bynanat!" he cried, pointing at the unpeeled banana still on the counter.
"Son, they are exactly the same," I tried calmly reasoning with him, to which he responded by throwing himself on the ground.
"Not dis bynanat!" tears pouring down his face.
"Son, they are the same. I'm not going to peel the other banana for you. That's wasteful."
"NOT DIS BYNANAT!"
"Drake, this is crazy behavior. You asked for the banana. Here it is." I lay the banana on the edge of the counter within his reach.
"NOT DIS BYNANAT! NOT DIS BYNANAT!" he wailed even louder.
"Drake!" I said, my voice growing stern, "This is crazy. You asked for the banana and they are all the same!"
"NOOOO! NOT DIS ONE!"
"Drake! You are driving me nuts!"
"NO NUTS! NO NUTS!" he cried, and I don't know if he was insulted or worried I might force feed him nuts. Just when I thought I might actually lose my mind, Drake stood up, sniffled once, saw the peeled banana on the edge of the counter and said, smiling, "Oh! My bynanat!" as he grabbed it and walked off happily. I was left standing in the kitchen, my eye twitching ever so slightly.

He never ate it. He just sat there holding it as he watched his cartoons. For an hour. I repeatedly reminded him to eat it, asked him to eat it, suggested that he should take a bite, begged him to eat it. He just smiled and did nothing until his cartoons were over, at which point he cried that his hands were messy and rejected the banana all over again.

Twitch... twitch

A Must Share

I'm breaking the months of radio silence today because this little man of mine has been so incredibly cute, I find it physically impossible not to write about it. I considered a longer-than-average status update on Facebook with the attached adorable photo, and though that would bring the attention that is due to the cuteness that is my son, it would eventually be lost to the mysterious streams of the Facebook Timeline. I wanted something more permanent than that. A record for later reference. Funny. That's kind of why I started this blog in the first place... Anyway! The cuteness:

I'm on vacation this week. It's our 5th Anniversary this Friday, and my husband and I both took most of the week off work in order to spend some good family time together before the insanity that is the school year. Tonight, however, was one of the two nights that my husband had to work, so it was just Drake and I at home. I had intended on making this creamy avocado pasta, but when I started to prep for dinner, I realized my avocados were not yet ripe. Instead of trying to figure out what else to do, I easily convinced myself that ordering takeout from the pub style bar and restaurant where I work and renting a movie was the best, most "vacation worthy" idea. I had been wanting a pulled pork sandwich anyway. I phoned in our order, loaded Drake into the car, and headed to the movie store with visions of some good Mommy/Drake cuddles and a kid appropriate movie that would not drive me insane for having seen it a million times. My plans were almost foiled, as Drake tried to pick out one of the millions of editions of Tom and Jerry, which already plays in some form, on repeat, 24/7 around this house. Nothing against the classics, but Dear God. No more! Thankfully, I was able to convince him to choose from one of the three titles I had selected, and we left the store with Epic.

Have you seen it? It's pretty dang cute. I actually laughed out loud a couple of times. A hit with Mom and Drake alike. *Tiny Spoiler Alert: towards the end, a new Queen is crowned. One at a time, all of her new subjects quietly and reverently bow to her. And this is the part of my story that matters: my son, aged two and a half, turned on his knees to face me on the couch, placed his hand on his chest, closed his eyes, and slowly bowed his head. And then - clincher - he slowly lifted his eyes back to mine, and then wrapped me in a big hug.

That is a TRUE. STORY.

I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't experienced it myself. It sounds way too scripted and perfectly adorable but It. Happened. I died a little inside. All I could say was, "That's right, buddy!" giggle, and hug him as tight as he would allow. It was one of the sweetest little windows into his mind and heart. I think I'll treasure that one for a long time.

The picture is from bath time right after the movie tonight, during which he was pretty hilarious, but I think I'll save that story for another time. Who knows? Maybe I'll start writing again...

Dad, Booze, and Other Things Drake Says

My son's first word was "Mama". Naturally. Thankfully. He said it before he was even a year old.
That was followed shortly by "ball," pronounced more like "baw." Then came "Nana" and "Baba" and "hi" and "bye."
And then that was kind of it for quite awhile. He used those words consistently and frequently, but didn't latch on to any others until about two months ago. That's about the time he started using "hep me" any time he wanted something, and was successfully taught how to say "tant tu" when it was given to him. He also melted hearts when he waved and said "nigh nigh" on his way to bed.
So that's 11 words. Some of which he was saying in two word phrases. And he still hadn't learned to say "Dad." It's probably not hard to imagine that my husband's feelings were a bit hurt. I worked on it all the time. I pointed at Justin's pictures when he was away at work or school and said repeatedly, "Dad! Daaaadd. Daddy!" to which Drake would respond, "Mom!" Flattery aside, I felt kinda guilty about it.
So I think I was every bit as excited as Justin when Drake just decided to start using "Dad" all on his own over Labor Day Weekend. We were on our trip out to my brother's farm for his wedding, and I guess Drake just decided to show off for all our friends and family. He also started saying "apple," which now stands in for all varieties of fruit and vegetable.
Since then, it seriously has felt like he has added a new word almost every day. I honestly can't keep track of them all. I wish I had written this post two weeks ago. I'm going to do my best to think of them all and start keeping a record.
Drake's 21 Month Vocabulary:
Mom or Mama
Ball (still pronounced "baw")
Nana
Baba
Hi
Bye
Help me ("hep me")
Thank you ("tant tu")
Goodnight ("nigh nigh")
Dad
Boots (which he loves to wear - he brings them to me and says "booze! booze!")
Juice ("deuce," which stands in for all beverages)
Apple
Cheese ("teece")
No (this one is not Mom's favorite)
Ew (when he has a dirty diaper)
Yuck
Eye (he points to them in books and on the faces of his toys. He can also point to a nose, mouth, cheek, chin, forehead, ear, and eyebrow when prompted, but he has yet to say any of those himself.)
Teeth
Up
More (sounds more like "moi")
Boom (do sound effects count? He says this one when he throws things.)
Me and Mine
Home
Dog
Yummy ("Nuuuuumy!")
Baby

He understands:
Kiss (and if you're lucky, he'll give you one, "mmmaaaww!" sound effect and all)
Drake ("Isn't he clever, Mr. O'haire? He responds to his own name!" Quick! What movie? ;))
Book (he'll run and go get you one to read)
Hungry (he'll laugh and run to his high chair if he is)
Lovey (his snuggle buddy since the day he was born)
Outside
Come here
...and a lot of other phrases. I feel like his understanding is really quite amazing. I say full sentences to him and feel as though he gets the point. These are just the ones that I know for sure get the appropriate response.

I feel certain I'm forgetting some, but that is a pretty good start.

What's in a Cry? {All Parents are Bi-Lingual}

It's 5:34 a.m. and the cry peels through the monitor. After nearly two years of the midnight call, I don't exactly startle out of bed. I slowly blink away sleep, but my body weighs heavy on my mattress. I lay there for a moment listening to the sound of my crying son and then whisper, "Baby? What do I do?"
It's decision making time.
You see, my son has essentially two different midnight cries. One sounds like, "WAAAAaaa..AAAaaaahh.... WAaaahh...... waaah.... wa......," which translates roughly to, "HEY! I woke up alone! I guess that's normal, but I don't really like it.... Mom?... Hello?... ZZzzzzzzzzzzzz." The second type of cry sounds more like, "WaaaaEEEHHHH! WaEH! WA! WA! WaaaaaEEEHHHH!" and means essentially, "Something is wrong! (Examples: "My teeth hurt!" or "I'm cold!") And I'm not going back to sleep until it's fixed!"
It is up to us, The Toddler Translation Division - otherwise known as "parents" - to decipher the sounds and proceed accordingly. Is he in pain or just protesting? Should we give it a moment or go check on him? He may fall back asleep... Should we try a bottle? Does he need medicine?
And then there are nights like last night, which present their own unique challenge. Our toddler may choose to practice his range of expressive abilities, resulting in something like this: "WAAAAaaaa....... WaEH!... WAAaaaaa... WAAaaaa... WaEH! WaEH!" Our best intelligence at this point understands this to mean, "I woke up alone! Oh, and my teeth hurt, now that I think about it. OWIE! But I am really tired... maybe I'll go back to sleep... NO! This hurts!! I don't like it! FIX. IT. NOW!! But I am really tired...."
In such a case, choosing the proper course of action becomes a matter of blind chance. Was that "tired"...? or "wired"...? If you take the time to fumble around for your pajamas, stumble upstairs and prepare a bottle, he very well may have chosen sleep by the time you reach his door. If, on the other hand, you choose to let him sort it out on his own, this could last all night. In which case, no one is getting any sleep. It's roulette. 50/50. Red or black. Dumb luck.
Last night, I chose to fumble and stumble. I bet a trip upstairs and ten minutes in the rocking chair that my son really did want to sleep. I won. The payout: me and my bed for three more hours.
Being bi-lingual is good, but being lucky is awesome.
That was two nights ago. In the small hours of this morning, my husband was not so lucky. Sorry, honey.