Happy 21 month birthday!

Dear Connor,

Today, you turned 21 months old, your dad and I celebrated the 6th anniversary of our wedding, and tomorrow, I will turn 34 years old. Wow! That’s a lot to celebrate – and you’ve been up for it all.


For starters, on Thursday, you and your dad went to the grocery store and purchased a giant cookie inscribed “Happy Mother’s Day”. You were so excited that the first words out of your mouth when I came home from work were “Mommy, cookie!”, and while I thought there was a small chance you had come up with a new nickname for me, I was equally delighted that you had a giant cookie for me – pre-tasted, I might add! But don’t worry, Connor, you come by your desire to blab honestly. I also can’t keep secrets. On that same trip, your dad got an ice cream cake for my birthday and that was a lot of fun to eat tonight – and because the cookie was so amazing, it was actually a surprise.


On Friday night, we went to a fundraiser at the zoo. Thankfully, your Grandma on your dad’s side had sent you the most perfect safari outfit for Easter so you looked quite stylish among the other zoo kiddos. Amidst enjoying running around, playing a few games, eating some junk food, and climbing on construction equipment, you showed me the proper way to do the hula hoop. I have to tell you, Connor, this might be better than I can do, but your Aunt Linda has won hula hoop contests before. (And that, my friend, is the sole reason that she will be your guardian if something happens that your dad and I can't fulfill our role as parents.) You might consider asking her for a few tips before you attempt this feat again.

Naturally, we spent some time visiting the beloved meerkats, because no trip to the zoo is complete without that.


This month has been marked by your growing independence and continued use of complete sentences to communicate. Apparently the other day at the park, you met a 5 year old named Patrick and he and you were the best of friends. He apparently grabbed your hand and away you went to play – something you wouldn’t have considered a few months ago. Your imagination also seems to be growing. You often drop to all fours to play “little doggie” and you’re quite fast when you get going. Today, you played “rain storm” (which was actually sand storm) when another girl at the park suggested it.


You officially took over half of the basement. Your dad puchased you a very cool rug, converted an old table into a train table (my idea, but his labor), and we pulled a few other “over-flow” toys from upstairs to the new play area. Just keep your stuff on the rug, little man, and there shouldn’t be any problems. If I see you drawing beers off the tap, your toys are getting shoved back upstairs.

You also slept to at least 6 AM every day last week, which in some parent’s books might not be all that impressive, but in ours, it’s fabulous. Typically, you get us at least one morning a week – if not more, with a pre-6 AM wake-up and my friend, that is unacceptable. But, your dad purchased a “wake-up” light, and you’ve been instructed that you needn’t call for me until that light comes on. It’s on a timer, and so far, so good.

You received your first professional haircut and it went so smoothly, I’m almost sorry I didn’t take you sooner. Since then, it’s been a little humid and your hair has been curlier than ever. Your dad asked me today if I thought you would have curly hair forever and I had to remind him that it’s one of few features of yours that can be attributed to me, so I better not see him pulling out the straightening gel anytime soon.

You’ve become a bit more obsessive about neatness – and in general, I fully support this. But at times, it’s really inconvenient. I have finally convinced you (I think) that when you drop popcorn on the ground you don’t have to pick up every kernel because the birds like to eat it too. A few nights ago, you dropped your bottle at the dinner table and the meal had to come to a complete stop while I lunged for the wipe to “clean it up!” immediately. You were mesmerized and couldn’t even think about eating another bite until the offending drops of milk had been cleansed from the floor.

You also started eating a few meals each week, which is really helping your dad and I remain sane, for the most part. Two nights ago, you had trout, tomatoes, green beans, bread, and part of that giant cookie. I even followed this book’s advice by setting out the cookie with the meal and it worked! You ate it first, but then moved on to the rest of your food. Of course, I nearly had a hernia today when you decided that food was for the weak and I swear didn’t eat more than 5 bites after breakfast. Your dad reminded me that “super zen mommy”, my new feeding persona, wouldn’t be bothered by this behavior, so I let it go.

The belly button is clearly an impressive body part, and sometimes, we have to put you in a "man suit" just to protect the poor thing. Tonight though, you had a very good idea. We've been talking about how there's a very tiny baby in my tummy, and you peered very closely at my belly button and asked if you could see the baby. It's a good idea but no, you cannot see the baby through my belly button. Sorry. Just like everyone else, you'll have to wait a good number of months to see that little one. You believe it is a girl, like mommy, not a boy like you and daddy. I believe you are correct. Your dad has his doubts.

I'm a little worried that you're going to start losing faith in your dad's and my ability to solve all problems because on occasion, you've demanded "fix it" and we have really dropped the ball. For example, we were planting periwinkle one afternoon and you decided to pinch a worm in half. You gave me both pieces and requested "fix it" but I had to tell you that once a worm was in two pieces, there was nothing to be done about making it one piece again. Luckily, when you break the play-dough, your dad can magically put it back together.


And thanks to you, Connor, your dad and I now own a cellular telephone. We purchased it because we started to feel that though we are almost always reachable, it is possible that something will happen when we are at a concert and you - I mean, your babysitter - will need to get in touch with us. Woohoo! Go technology! Now we just have to remember to bring it with us and turn it on, which are not the simple feats you might imagine them to be.

Along with all the joy you bring me, you also bring me many dandelions each day, and I do believe you understand that they are the ONLY flowers that can be picked by your little hands.

Love,
Mommy