Twenty-Three Months

Dear Patrick,

I'm sorry. That's what is most important to me right now, apologizing to you. These last few weeks haven't really been fair to you, even though you haven't seemed to notice. Mommy has been struggling more and more to find the energy to play with you the way you want, and I regret that missed time. Daddy has stepped right up and played with you to the point that I've never heard such giggles, so you don't seem to be suffering. But I still wish I had been the one to draw giggles like that from you.

I'm also sorry that my temper is so short. I find myself regretting daily something I've said to you that was perhaps more forceful than the situation required. Yes, you are hitting those terrible two's awfully soon, and you are testing your limits in a way I've never seen before, but that doesn't mean I need to lose my patience with you the first time you disobey. With any luck, this should change at least somewhat after Nathan comes. Of course, between the lack of sleep and the post-partum hormone changes I go through, things might only get worse for a while. I hope you can be more patient with Mommy during those weeks than Mommy has been with you.
One of the happier changes that has happened this last month is that we have found new foods you will eat. In fact, I think you actually prefer this new food to most of the other foods we've tried. And oddly enough, it is fruit. You turned up your nose at anything fruit-like ages ago, and I gave up pushing them on you. But now you'll pick a strawberry over a French fry in a second. The only one I've tried that you've turned down is banana, and I agree the squishy texture takes some getting used to. Otherwise, though, your diet is getting healthier than mine (I blame Nathan, who apparently craves chocolate all the time).

You've also finally started the typical transformation into a monkey. You want to climb on anything and everything. We've been very lucky that you're on the short side, though, because much of what you want to climb on is too tall for you. It's cute watching you swing a leg up to try to pull yourself onto the couch or one of the recliners, but I've been glad you haven't made it yet. I'm not looking forward to the bumped heads from when you dive back off of whatever you've just climbed onto. Daddy and I do let you climb on smaller things, though, which usually don't get you more than a couple of inches off the floor. For now, that seems to satisfy you, and I'm glad we've delayed the more serious climbing for a bit longer.

You are definitely taller, though. We found this out by accident the other day when you suddenly opened your door by using the doorknob. Since then, it's become an obsession for you. You can abandon whatever other activity you are doing at any time to run for your room to play "door," which really means you're just practicing with that doorknob until it becomes second nature. Daddy and I have had to rush to take alternate precautions to keep you safe, like changing the lever handles to regular doorknobs anywhere we can't put a normal lever lock. The child-safe doorknob locks don't prevent the door from opening from the other side the way the lever locks do. Of course, this only works until you figure out the lever locks. I'm hoping that's a long ways off, but I'm learning not to underestimate you.

Your language development still hasn't taken off the way I keep hoping it will. You only have two new words this month: "dishes" and "shoes," two words that you associate with things that are absolutely thrilling. Despite the lack of new words, though, you are learning new and better ways to communicate. You still let us know what it is you want by moving our hands in the direction of the desired object--usually food. You've figured out as well that you can direct us where to go by gently pushing or pulling us in the desired direction. The cutest was last night when Daddy was holding you to put you into bed, and you reached over to grab my sleeve and pull me close as well. I don't mind this gentle bossiness when it means you just want us close.

I can also tell you're growing because more and more of your twelve month outfits are getting tight on you. I have to give you a lot of credit for hitting this growth spurt right as the change of seasons begins. You were going to need cool-weather clothes soon anyway, so now we can buy all in one size, instead of having to replace a 12m wardrobe with an 18m one halfway through the season. I just hope we can find enough in that odd 18m size to last you through the winter; while you are definitely outgrowing the smaller 12m size, you also definitely aren't going to fit into 2T clothes yet either.

I always get a little sad when I write these monthly letters and get to the last picture, when I really need to start wrapping things up. I always wish I'd gotten more good pictures of you to include so I could just keep writing forever, telling every little cute story from the whole month, but then I realize that nobody, not even you or I, will really want to go back and read all of that years from now. But when I do read these updates about what you've been doing, I know I'll remember the sweet and cantankerous little boy you are now and get that bittersweet feeling of nostalgia. I already remember the little baby you were and wonder how that tiny, fragile thing ever turned into this rough-and-tumble tough boy you are now.

I can't imagine how on earth you can already be turning two in only a month. Plans for a party are in the works, but it all feels unreal. It feels like only yesterday when I was pregnant with you. How can my baby boy be staring at that big two already? I'm hoping your baby brother helps ease me into your twos a bit more easily, but I fear it's much more likely holding a baby in my arms again will only make me miss the you from the past two years that much more. The only thing that really seems to help is that the you from right now is often such a joy to be around. Please don't lose that sweetness when you realize just how much your life will change with Nathan around.

Love,

Mommy