December 8th, 2010: My firstborn is a year-and-a-half old!
I wish there were a way you could know yourself. Like, when you’re fifteen or twenty-two, it would be great if you could hang out with your eighteen-month-old self. You would love you, just like everyone else does.
Today I took you to the school play. You love the kids – you’ve been hanging around with them whenever I bring you to rehearsals – and they love you even more. They’ve dubbed themselves your fan club, and they can’t get enough of your cute little blond self – toddling around, calling out the colours and numbers and shapes you see, learning their names, giving lots of high-fives. They all want to be the one to pick you up or give you a hug or a kiss.
You were so good, sitting in my lap and watching the play, enjoying the music and dancing and lights. At one point, when it was quiet, you said, “On-off!” (there were flashy lights) and I could see some of the smiles on the kids’ faces get bigger because they could hear your squeaky little voice.
The other day, in the bookstore play area, we met a little girl named Hailey who was born on the same day as you. You played together, and her parents were very impressed with all your words – and the fact that you learned her name just like that. At one point she was playing the mini-keyboard on the cover of the Thomas book, and you came over to her and put your hand on her shoulder and played a few notes with your experienced fingers… like you were hitting on her, trying to wow her with your skills. We all laughed at your smooth moves.
Here are some of your favourite things:
- playing piano (sometimes you sing along)
- lids (you still pronounce them “blids”)
- dancing (stepping fast or bobbing your head) to music
- pineapple (you pronounce it “cappapple”)
- fans (both kinds, rotary and adoring)
- rainbows (they shine through the prism onto the bedroom ceiling in the morning and you are so happy to see them)
- cars and trucks
- kids (who all become fans)
- bread and melted cheese (you pronounce it “bedgies”)
- your friend Laura (you always kiss her goodbye when we leave the babysitter’s)
- your parents and relatives and other loved ones
- and, of course, books. You want us to read to you basically all the time, even if you’re too busy to stay for the whole book. You especially love stories about animals.
You are a star wherever you go. When I take you to school, when we go to Daddy’s work, when we’re with relatives – even in the grocery store with total strangers. You brighten people’s day, all the time.
We are so incredibly proud of you and so thrilled to spend time with you. You are fascinating to watch and wonderful to squeeze. We love you jillions and bazillions.
Thanks for reading, readers. This past week, as I’ve been neglecting my blog, I’ve been realizing how much better I feel when I do take the time to write. And when I’m able to do it, I’m motivated because of you.
Also, I’m really grateful that the process has been reminding me to take note of the bizarre and adorable little things my child does. Whenever he displays a new skill or quirk, whenever he makes us crack up with laughter, I think, The blogiverse needs to know about this! (This may or may not be true… but I pretend it is.) It helps me appreciate the details – not that this is hard!
I’ve been thinking about loss recently, and had occasion to read some of Mandy Hitchcock’s blog, Hudson’s One Good Thing. Her daughter was slightly younger than my son when she suddenly contracted meningitis, and died shortly thereafter. The blog is an attempt to work through it, and to find meaning and perhaps silver lining in the awfulness (hence “One Good Thing”). It also speaks of all the ordinary moments Mandy had with her daughter, moments she would give anything to have back.
I do consciously cherish my son each day, but reading this makes me even more fervently thankful that he’s in my life. I get to squeeze and kiss him, to listen to him form new words, to watch him play, to see him put smiles on other people’s faces, to snuggle him while we read books, every day. I also get to help him when he is grumpy and crying, when his nose runs like a tap, when he needs a poopy diaper changed, when he throws food on the floor, when he wakes up in the night, and when he pulls all the lids out of the container drawer. All these moments are part of having the best kid in the world.
I am such a lucky, lucky mommy.
This week, in honour of the year-and-a-half milestone, I’m going to do my best to post videos and photos I’ve been meaning to post for weeks. Time to get back to the blog!