Happy 20 Month Birthday!

Dear Connor,

Today you turned 20 months old. And in the past month, life has slipped by so fast that I wonder if I can possibly remember all the new things you’ve done. For starters, you can correctly and consistently identify robins, cardinals, and blue jays in the yard. Once you have mourning dove down, you’ll pretty much have my birding knowledge exhausted, so we’ll have to turn to a book to further expand your repertoire. You know that a robin eats worms and birds go “twee twee twee” – except a crow which goes “cah cah cah”.


I’ve gone from being “mama” to “mommy”. Likewise, “dada” has become “daddy”. Shortly after the transition, your dad remarked that he was sort of sad about the passage of “dada” because it was such a concrete sign that you were growing up. We also weaned, which has been easier than I expected it to be though you still look up at me, get this huge grin, and say “nursin’?” on occasion.

Your favorite accessory this month is this little stretchy necklace with hearts on it. I pity the child that comes between you and that necklace. I think it is the one toy you would throw down over, and I think even with a size disadvantage, you might win. Typically, you are a pretty mild mannered child when it comes to toys. You get a bit annoyed when other children take your toys, but if you get a bit too excited and take something in use, you’ll almost always hand it back with the assurance that your turn is coming. Earlier this month we met the very nicest boy ever on the playground. He had two trucks and you walked right up to him and said “Connor truck” and smiled at him and apparently you said it with such authority or charm that this little boy was compelled to give you one of his trucks. I suggested you offer him one of your two tigers in return (which you did), but he didn’t realize how cool the tigers were so you got to keep both tigers AND the truck. Wow – what a deal. We also met a little girl who didn’t appreciate you caring for her doll, even though she had abandoned it in her stroller. The little girl about popped a gasket when she saw you head over to the abandoned baby in the stroller and give it a hug. Her nanny took the doll from you without much comment and put it back in the stroller, and rather than punching the nanny in the face, I tried to cover for her brash behavior and said that apparently it was the dolly’s naptime and she needed to sleep in the stroller. This seemed to be a satisfactory explanation to you about why you weren’t allowed to care for that lonely, unattended dolly. This child and nanny didn’t seem to get that at our park, unattended toys are fair game. Of course, when the mean girl started playing with one of your unused toys, we let her. Maybe next time she’ll be nicer.


Further solidifying your roll as “old man”, you have taken to begging your dad and I to play “car” which means you sit in the front seat, play with the stick shift and whatever knobs and dials you can get your hands on. I still do not fully comprehend why your dad allowed this in the first place, but when I don’t feel like playing the most boring game in the world, I simply tell you that you have to wait until Daddy comes home and then you dutifully beg him to play when you next see him and more often than not, the two of you go on a Sunday drive right in the driveway. Perhaps you should talk to your Aunt Linda about driving before you’re legally able to do so. I don’t know all the details, but suffice it to say, I was a baby – and she decided to take us cruising, which fortunately ended with nothing more tragic than the bending of a street sign. I will admit I allowed you to play your boring game one day when I drove to a neighbor’s house to pick up a roto-tiller. I knew it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to wheel the thing around to the front yard and load it into the car with you running in all directions, so I simply rolled down the windows so I could hear you if you hollered loud enough, locked the doors, and left you unattended for a few minutes while I found the small machine and then loaded it into the car. No child protective agencies were involved, thankfully.

Your dad has proclaimed that you desperately need a haircut (he even suggested a “summer buzz cut”) but I think using a comb would go a long way, and I’d like to try that strategy first. I suspect you will be a bit hostile towards both. But, even if we do go to a professional to trim some of your curls, unless something goes terribly awry - you need not worry about the summer buzz cut your dad spoke about. It is definitely not your style.

About the only sound that still trips you up is an “l” sound in the middle of the word as in “Kellee” or “stroller”. But, even words with this characteristic can be understood by trained ears. You have jumped from two word phrases to three word phrases, which means now you can say “Mommy carry you” instead of just “carry you”. Pronouns are not working out for you just yet.


You took over the basement officially when your dad and I took down the pool table, though I suspect you’ll miss walking around the pool table and trying to frighten me by launching pool balls off it. You’ve added a couple of letters to the ones you’ve already known, and now you’re willing to admit that some letters can be shared by more than one person. When we went to Colorado, Grandma tried to convince you the “Mama” and “Michael” shared the same letter – but you would make her draw two “Ms” each time, insisting that one was Mama (the first one) and the other one could be for Michael if she insisted. This morning, I asked you whose letter “R” was and you said “Rani” and then “Ruth”. The letters you recognize are: C – Connor; D – Daddy; I – Isabella; M – Mommy / Michael; R – Rani / Ruth; Z – Zoe and sometimes T – Tiger and A – Alice / Amanda. Wow!

Love,
Mommy

PS: Making it just under the wire for 20 months, you said what I believe is your first complete sentence this evening while Daddy was cooking dinner. It was a command, surprise. "Daddy, turn the mixer off." He complied.

New Bike!

My friend Vickie turned me onto the like-a-bike . But, the like-a-bike is rather expensive, and I am rather cheap. But, then Vickie told me that my beloved Target sold a knock-off, so of course, Ed rushed out to buy it (along with two other completely unauthorized purchases). Unfortunately, Connor is still a little too short for the new bike, so this not quite assembled version was as good as it got for Connor. But maybe by the end of summer he’ll be cruising along on his pedal-free wooden bike

Happy Easter

I was planning to let Easter pass the same way most holidays pass in my home – without much notice except for some cool presents from Aunt Linda, Anna, and Emily and my parents. After all, I won’t be able to slack on this stuff forever, so I should take advantage of the fact that Connor doesn’t know about things like the Easter bunny now. But, a few weeks ago my mom was talking about how it would be fun to visit Connor next year and see him hunt for eggs, and it was then that I remembered the annual egg hunts my mom hosted in our backyard when my sister and I were growing up. So, I floated the idea with a couple of friends, and the first annual Easter egg hunt was planned – complete with a bunny cake from of our friends Elsa, Ceci, and Elaine.

It was supposed to be sunny outside. The twelve children I invited (8 of whom were able to attend) were supposed to join Connor in merriment outside on my deck and in my backyard. But, thanks to completely freaky weather (it SNOWED the day before the party), all plans had to be moved inside. This meant two things.

#1. Connor and his friends had a hostile takeover of the basement. The pool table that once thrived in Grateful Ed’s but has most recently been used as a place to store clutter gathered in other parts of the house was taken apart and will be taken away in the next few days – because even I am not insane enough to dye Easter eggs on the main floor of my house. And nearly every person in attendance remarked how the egg dyeing wasn’t nearly as messy as they thought it would be! Most importantly, Ed did not divorce me.

#2. After the egg dyeing, all of the children were released – at once – to roam around the upstairs uncovering over 100 hidden eggs. Wow! Talk about chaos. But it was fun! Afterwards, Ed and I told Connor his friends were messier than a bunch of drunks, which frankly Ed and I have a lot more experience dealing with.


I didn’t get any photos of the actual event. I was too busy making sure the house didn’t fall down. But this morning, after Ed had mercifully taken morning duty (this makes FOUR weekend days in a row!), Connor and I played egg hunt for another hour – and he would’ve played longer if I didn’t need to get in the shower because we were having a play date.


Next year, I’m considering switching out the egg dyeing event with a cookie decorating event, but only if it’s outside.

Elaine

How to dye an Easter egg

Step 1. Set out cups for dye.

Step 2. Taste dye tablet to make certain Mom was telling the truth when she said it wasn’t candy.
Step 3. Spit dye tablet out and mix with water and vinegar.
Step 4. Throw hard boiled egg into dye as quickly as possible. Do this many times so Mom can’t keep up with you.
Step 5. Take egg out of dye. Do not bother using egg dippers and special spoons to remove the egg. Bare hands work fine. Throw egg in new color. Repeat until Mom says that's enough.
Step 6. Resemble the Incredible Hulk with cool green hands.

The Farm!

Last weekend, we went to a petting farm. This is the second visit we’ve made, but the first visit Connor was unable to feed the animals himself, which left Ed carrying him around and me allowing goats to lick my hands. I announced on that visit that the next time we ventured to the farm, my hand was not going to be licked by goats. Ick!


This trip was even better. For one, Connor can feed the animals – though I helped a bit, and it didn’t gross me out as much before. Perhaps I’m becoming a mother after all. Most amazing, my little man, who typically does not like strange experiences OR experiences that involve strangers, actually got on a pony and rode it around with someone else guiding the pony and making sure he didn’t topple off. We weren’t planning to get him a ticket to ride the pony, but the friends we met there had gotten a ticket for their daughter, and while we watched others ride the pony waiting for Zoe’s turn, Connor announced “Connor pony”, which we took to meant he’d like a turn. We dutifully purchased him a ticket, though I think both Ed and I were quite certain we had just tossed the few bucks it cost down the drain. Much to our surprise, at the end of the ride when I told Connor we were all done, he told me “more” – but, there was a big line of other children waiting to ride, so I convinced him that a hug and a pat would have to do for now.

Elaine

Little dogs and Connor

Connor has always loved dogs. A few nights ago, we went to a friend's house to watch OSU beat Georgetown. We opted to travel instead of invite our friend over because he was dogsitting a dachsund - "Beemer".

Only trouble was, Beemer does not like men he doesn't already know. This meant that Ed had to sit across the room and watch the game to keep Beemer from barking. But every time Ed moved, Beemer let us know he was aware of Ed's daring nature.


In spite of the noise, Connor still liked Beemer, though he was a bit nervous about getting too close. He did, however, enjoy playing in Beemer's water dish, figuring out that his head was too small to make it through Beemer's doggie door leading to the balcony, lying in Beemer's bed, and wearing Beemer's tiger print cape.


For the last two nights, before Connor has fallen asleep, he's brought up Beemer. Apparently that little dog made quite an impression!

Elaine

Hope springs eternal in April

Ed pointed out last night that our household might be rooting for the two worst teams in baseball this year. I told him I could take it, but frankly, as a recovering Yankees fan, I'm not sure he has what it takes. Time will tell, I suppose.

But regardless of who your loyalties lie with...

Let's play ball! Or toss pandas. Whatever you prefer!


Elaine

PS: Outfit credit goes to Aunt Linda, Anna, and Emily - organizing credit goes to me since I held onto it since Connor's birth!

Happy Mother's Day...in March!

When Connor was born, Ed and I went through this very intense phase of sleep deprivation. Ed could no longer see things right in front of him, and I could no longer form words. Conversations would go something like this.

Me: "Could you get me the...the thing? You know, that you make tea in?"
Ed: "The teapot? Yes. Where is it?"
Me: "It's in the...the place. That has doors. In the room we cook in."
Ed: "You mean, the kitchen cupboard? OK."
Ed...staring straight at the teapot. "No, it's not there. I can't find it." and then I would go up and point out to him that it was approximately 10 inches from his nose.

In the middle of all this, I decided one day that a cup of tea was just what I needed. Yes, a cup of hot tea would make everything better. I would make the tea, go downstairs and hang out in front of the TV watching Oprah, with Connor resting nearby, and everything would somehow be right in the world again. Well...I got to the part about putting water in the tea kettle, and the part about going downstairs, and the next thing I knew, Ed was turning the stove off. Every drop of water in the teapot had boiled off, and the once shiny copper kettle was now completely black.


Being a bit on the emotional side at the time, I suspect I cried. Not so much because my beloved teapot had been destroyed by my sleepy, careless hands, but because it was surely a sign that things would never be the way they used to be. I would never be able to function among other adults. My life, as I knew it, was over. And what's more, the life I was entering was over my head. I was in deep, and that teapot symbolized just how dark things might get.

Ed consoled me, and then he scrubbed that teapot so hard that it was almost copper again. Though in a weakened state, no doubt. But I was so happy to see even a little sign that things could be right again, I embraced by battle scarred teapot, and continued to use it.

Earlier this year, Connor decided my teapot was very cool. He decided he needed it for some very important kitchen project. I foolishly left it within his grasp. And then, a few minutes after I had left the kitchen, Ed and I heard the sound of something metal hitting the ground. It was the SPOUT. Yes, somehow, Connor had managed to free the spout from the pot. I'm not sure whether I should be frightened or impressed, but clearly the teapot was officially dead.

It was then that I told Connor it was all his fault that my teapot died and I would like a new one for Mother's Day.

Yesterday, a package arrived. As soon as I came home, Connor requested "scissors" so we could "open...present". I had been warned that Ed had ordered some things for my birthday, our anniversary, and Mother's Day, so I told Connor he and Daddy could open it when Daddy came home. Connor forgot about the box until he saw it this morning.

But when he noticed it, he called downstairs for Ed and insisted that Ed get scissors so they could open the present right away. I went into another room, and Connor and Ed dug in. As soon as Connor got the to the box with the teapot in it, he brought it to me, completely excited. Only I didn't want to ruin the surprise, so I closed my eyes. Connor bumped into me with box and I told him that I wasn't looking. Unexpectedly, he went from being the most excited toddler on the planet to bursting into tears. So I opened my eyes. And you know what, Mother's Day in March is just as great as Mother's Day in May. And that lovely brass tea kettle, still covered in laquer and super shiny? That's how I feel about life now.


Thanks, Connor. For the lovely brass tea kettle.

Elaine

PS: I realize the photos have absolutely nothing to do with the post, but I know some readers (ahem, Ed) only look at the blog for the photos - so a long-winded post from me is surely not appreciated without at least a couple shots showing that despite the morning chaos, all is well with Connor too.

PPS: My friend Thérèse read this post and sent me this link. I am not the only mom whose teapot fell victim to the early days of motherhood

Because sometimes, having one old man in the house

just isn't enough.

Lately, Connor has taken to going outside and sitting on the porch, just watching the world go by. I presume by next weekend, Ed will have him reading a newspaper too, to complete the look.

Taking a ride!

Last weekend was the big semi-annual consignment sale I have not missed since Connor's birth. Among other purchases, I scored this little stroller - which Connor has had great fun pushing up and down the street. He also enjoys a ride every now and then, much to the chagrin of Ed's and my aging backs!