Thirteen Months

Dear Nathan,

You're starting to sound so old. I rarely ever give your age in months anymore, but if anyone asked, I would now get to say you're thirteen months old. It's not a big milestone by any means, but one worth mentioning anyway.
You're still little enough that I hear older kids shout, "Look, Mommy! A baby!" when we walk by, but you're quickly outgrowing that phase. Pretty soon that will be you looking at younger children, telling me you see a baby.
And I have no doubts that it won't be long until that happens. You are quickly catching up to your brother in language skills. You desperately want to be like him in every possible way, and his slightly lagging language skills have left an opening for you to catch up to him. Just this afternoon, you told me "da" while you were holding a rubber ducky and then "ca, ca" (quack, quack, I think). Apparently you're paying more attention to our bedtime book about farm animals than I'd realized.
You were also excited today to see Amber when you woke up from your nap. You said something that sounded like, "Hi, Amber," followed by "gi ga," which sounded remarkably like your brother's version of "good girl." If I add these new phrases to all the words and phrases you've already been saying, it's safe to say you are at least on target with the langauge development I'd expect for your age (not that I really know what to expect based on past experiences), if not a little ahead.
Most of the time it's fun to take you out places. You are still quite the charmer and look excited about every single outing. I usually carry you in the baby carrier, and you hang there happily, kicking your feet, waving your arms, and grinning that famous smile of yours. You never fail to get a smile out of even the most grumpy-looking people. I love watching you bring joy to everyone's life, even people you've never seen before and will probably never see again.
But Nathan, that doesn't begin to compare to the joy you bring to my life, and all of us who get to spend so much time with you. If more families ended up with children like you, there would be population boom unlike what has ever been seen before. You are the picture of perfection of babyhood, the one every mother dreams about but never gets. Except for lucky, lucky me.

Still, I know that perfect as you are now, it would be foolish of me to place that burden of perfection on you. Before I know it, you will have fallen headfirst into the terrible twos, and I will rely on my memories of these first thirteen (and hopefully more) months to take me through the toddler years. You have my permission to fail, to turn into that cranky baby that must be hidden somewhere behind those bright eyes and permanent smile. I've seen enough of you already to know that this happy baby I've seen for the past thirteen months is the real you, and you'll be back eventually when you let the cranky baby take over.
In the meantime, you are working to keep up with your big brother in ways other than talking. You are soooo close to crawling the real way, but every time it looks like you're going to give it a try, you fall back on your tried and true scoot-crawl. You're amazingly fast at it. You're already a handful to keep up with when you get scooting.
But more than anything, you want to be on your feet, standing. You can balance for a couple of seconds without any support, although you don't allow those opportunities often, and I've watched you watch your brother walk and run with that jealous glint in your eyes. I'm sure it won't be long before you summon your inner courage and toddle those first few steps after him--I'm sure it will be after Patrick. And then? I don't know what I'll have to do to keep up with both of you.
At least at the end of the day, when all of your energy is spent, you still crash like a baby. I never get tired of the sight of your sweet, innocent face relaxed in sleep. Never is my urge to love and comfort and protect you from all the hurts of the world any stronger. At the end of the day, regardless of how mature you get, you are still just my little baby, and nothing can take that away from me. And that makes me as deliriously happy as you always are.

I love you, sweet Nathan.

Mommy

Three

Dear Patrick,

Today you turn three years old, at exactly 4:17. With any luck you will ring in your birth moment a little more peacefully than you did three years ago, hopefully sleeping today. Even while you sleep through it, though, I'll notice it and remember for you.
These last three years have been a wild roller coaster ride. Each time it seems like things are settling down again, like we know what to expect from you, you surprise us again. For you, routines are made only to be changed. Lately, you have been all about school. Each day exists only to get you back to a school day, and you constantly talk about your teachers and friends at school. You beg all day long to "go see teacher," and your excitement can't be contained when I finally agree that yes, it is a school day.
School is teaching you far more than your colors and shapes, though. You are learning how to be social, how to be a good friend, and why we don't do mean things like throw and push. You are learning how to follow a set routine that isn't necessarily in your agenda and that the world doesn't revolve around you. We're finding these lessons you are attempting to learn at school are difficult to translate at home, so we've been struggling quite a bit over the last few weeks to help you transition between school and home--and to teach you that while the routines may differ, the same rules like no throwing and pushing still apply.
But school is helping you grow up--and fast. You are now actually playing with your brother, and he loves all the attention, even when it gets a bit too rough for him at times. I can already foresee the future months and years of the two of you wrestling. Just remember that it's quite likely he will end up with a size advantage over you before much longer, and you may regret starting the wrestling matches eventually. Still, it warms my heart to watch you play with your brother and how much you two enjoy each other's company.
You are learning compassion, too. I love to hear you ask me or Daddy or Gaga (whom you also call Na-hin sometimes now) in your little voice, "You okay?" You ask even when you're pretty sure there's nothing wrong. I guess you've picked that up from me and Daddy, but I'm glad it is one of the things you have chosen to repeat. It shows a sweet spirit underneath that stubborn exterior.

School is also starting to develop your language skills even further. Although I can tell your language is still behind that of your friends, you are starting to catch up. More and more you are talking in full sentences, and you attempt to tell me about your school day when you get home, even if it takes a little interpreting on my part. You readily repeat lots of words and phrases you hear Daddy and me say--unless, of course, we ask you to. I can't tell you how much I love getting to hear you chatter on at meals or our little snack time after school. Some of the things you say--like asking me to stay in your room this morning with you--make me feel more special than anything else you have done in your short life.
Even when you are fighting against us, you are so full of life. That is what tends to get you in trouble the most. You get so involved in playing or making a mess that you tune out all the warnings from me or Daddy and end up in time-out as a result. I'm finally starting to understand you, though, and your inability to be distracted from whatever activity you have in mind, even if it results in a punishment. It dawned on me yesterday that I am just as frustrated when people try to distract me once I have my mind set on doing something. I'm going to start working on patience with you in this area because it is how I would want people to deal with me. But I expect compromise, too; I can't be too patient with you when you are risking your safety or that of someone else, like your brother.
For example, last week as we were walking into school, you darted out in front of the car into the parking lot while I was still gathering all your school stuff from the car. I managed to catch you before you got too far, and there were thankfully no cars coming right then, but it scared me. Your inability to stop when I screamed your name, panicked, has haunted me ever since. I had numerous nightmares about you disappearing or getting hurt or worse all that night. As frustrated as we can get with you sometimes, I know part of me would die inside if I let anything like that happen to you.
Over the last three years you have certainly enriched our lives, much more than I ever thought possible. I won't lie and pretend it's always easy to be your parent--probably anyone's parent--but it's worth it. I am so entwined in your little fingers now that it would rip my heart out for anything to happen to you. In fact, it will rip my heart out each time you grow just a little more independent, like your first day of kindergarten and your first date and college. I just hope that you never grow too big and independent to stop being my sweet little boy, that you never grow up too much to refuse to give me a sweet kiss when you wake me up on Saturday mornings. Because kisses like that, and moments like that, are the ones that make up for every single frustrating one in between.

Patrick's ECI graduation yesterday

Love,

Mommy

One Year

Dear Nathan,

Happy birthday! I know I've said it to you in person many times already today, but it can always be said one more time. I've spent all day so far remembering what I was doing right now a year ago. I even looked at the clock right at 10:43 and smiled to myself remembering how wonderful that moment was last year.

I've found your birthday to be kind of bittersweet. This past year has been so perfect that I'm not ready for it to end. I'm not ready for you to move on past being my sweet baby. I want to take you in my arms, hold you close, and keep you there forever and ever. I'll even gladly cling to the sleepless nights from your early days (months) if it meant I could keep you little just a little longer.
But I'm making a point to look forward instead of behind me. The awesome little boy you're already becoming will only get sweeter and more fun as time goes on. It will be neat to watch you continue to grow, to watch your hilarious personality develop.
Right now, you are still such a happy boy, content with your surroundings--as long as Mommy is around. That's right, you are still a Mommy's boy. I love how much you cling to me, even when my arms get tired sometimes from all the carrying you still get. In fact, you scream every time we take Patrick to school or pick him up; you're afraid I'm going to leave you behind too. I've had to start carrying you on those short trips in and out of school, as well as Patrick's backpack (which is clearly too large for his tiny back), his lunch, his nap mat, and his hand. Your clinginess is forcing me into becoming SuperMom, which I guess isn't a bad thing, although a bit trying sometimes.
I'm thrilled that you are becoming increasingly excited about Daddy too, though. You chase after him (as fast as you can scoot anyways) sometimes, calling out, "Da Da Da Da" as you go. You ask for him every morning and don't seem to like when he's at work when you can't see him right away. You may still prefer that I carry you around more often, but he's an acceptable alternative. Regardless, though, you adore your daddy and think he hung the moon. I don't blame you for the adoration; he is definitely somebody special. I'm glad you take after him as much as you do.

Now that you are able to play with toys more, your relationship with Patrick is beginning to change. You admire him still, but I wonder how you can some days when he is particularly mean to you. He'll push you over, making you cry and earning him a time-out, and all you can do is look longingly at Patrick until he can come play again, even knowing that he will likely just try to push you over again or take a toy away from you. I guess it's those times when the two of you play happily together that you focus on, and honestly I love them as much as you do. I can tell the two of you are going to be best buds when you catch up a little in size and can hold your own against him.
The other day we tried to get pictures for your official one-year photos, and I didn't realize we hadn't tried a mini-session like this since you've become so mobile. It was difficult and a bit frustrating, and I was a little disappointed that I didn't get the same kinds of sweet pictures I got of your brother when he turned a year old. Of course, he couldn't crawl yet at the time, so naturally that session was easier. When I downloaded the pictures and started flipping through them, however, I was stunned at how much personality came through even the bad pictures. While most of the pictures I got may not be the kind you see in an art studio, they are YOU. I'll be much happier years from now to browse through pictures where you are crawling off, sticking your tongue out, and scrunching up your face than I would have been with those generic baby pictures.
You are growing into such a beautiful child, too. I no longer have fears that I might have one of those rare ugly babies and not know it thanks to my mother's bias. Nope, you are indeed an adorable child. The only problem with your beautiful face and soft blonde curls is that you are being mistaken for a girl more and more often. It doesn't matter how boyishly I dress you; people just get drawn in by those beautiful blue eyes and curls and look past your clothes, unable to decide whether you're a gorgeous boy or an adorable girl. I can't say I blame them. But that doesn't mean I'm cutting your hair anytime soon, just so you look more like a boy. I'm as taken by the curls as the next person, so they're sticking around for a while.
I knew how special you were before you ever made your appearance a year ago, on the first day of fall (actually exactly a minute before fall officially starts). I knew you would enrich all of our lives and how much my heart would grow to make room for you. I just had no idea exactly how much that would happen. I have gotten to the point where I could never imagine life without you in it, without that bright smile and chuckly laugh, your silly games of peek-a-boo and imitation of Patrick or me or Daddy. Thank you for this past year. I'm looking forward to the next one and the one after that and the one after that and all the joy you will continue to bring to our lives throughout your entire life. Happy birthday, my precious son. I love you to the ends of the earth.

Mommy

Thirty-Five Months

Dear Patrick,

On Sunday you turned thirty-five months old, a milestone that is far overshadowed by the one looming in a month. In fact your upcoming birthday is partly why I'm a bit late posting your letter this month. When it dawned on me how quickly your birthday was approaching, I realized your brother's was a full two weeks sooner. We are not prepared, physically or emotionally, for either. That means we spent some time this weekend looking for birthday presents for you guys. You definitely enjoyed looking, and your obvious interest in certain toys helped us immensely. Now we just need to order them or go buy them at a time when you won't know so that you won't bug us about those awesome toys endlessly for the next month.
Of course, the other big event of this month was your first day of school. Really, it's just Mother's Day Out, not even officially preschool yet, but you don't know that. To you, it's school, where you go to "see teacher." You absolutely love it. In fact, on your first day of school, you just marched on into the classroom without a backwards glance at me. You barely looked up from your Magnadoodle when I gave you a hug and told you good-bye. That classroom looks an awful lot like heaven to you, I'm thinking.

In a way, I was proud to watch you walk so confidently off to your first day of school without the clinging that I've heard can make a first day so difficult. As you are the oldest in your class, it's good to see you acting so maturely. Even if your size or communication skills can't prove you're the oldest, at least you know how to act like it from time to time. But to be honest, I was a little glad today when you stopped me before I left your classroom to tell me you wanted me to hold your hand so you could show me around your classroom. You told me you wanted me to "see teacher" too. You weren't terribly disappointed when I told you that you needed to stay at school without me, but I like knowing that you would rather I stayed with you too.

At the same time that we are transitioning into school mode, you are going through another transition--out of the ECI program and into the school district's special ed program. You had your first initial screening with them yesterday. While you enjoyed some of the games they played with you, that wasn't the case for all of them. You showed your stubborn nature any time you didn't like a game and refused to play. Unfortunately, by not playing along they were unable to prove whether or not you could do certain skills. As a result, we will be going back before long to play more games for what they call a full evaluation. That decides whether you get to go into their program. Since you still need the help, it's a good thing that you qualify for the next step to get into the program, but it was frustrating to watch you refuse to do things that I know you know how to do.

But Patrick, that's you. From the very start you have insisted on doing things your way, even deciding to show up two months before we expected you. You see no reason to do anything that anybody asks you to unless you want to do it. That will be great when you're encountering peer pressure a few years down the line, but your daddy and I and all your future teachers (and probably your current ones) are going to struggle with this aspect of your personality. I'm hoping your impending reasoning skills will make it easier for us to be able to explain why we need you to do things so that this power struggle can stop.

On the other hand, you are still one of the sweetest and most thoughtful kids I know, especially for your age. We had a whole discussion of how thoughtful you are over breakfast this morning, although you called it "awful," not thoughtful. I had stubbed my toe while retrieving a hidden sippy for you and you repeatedly asked about my toe, insisting I get a "boo-boo" for it and asking if I was okay. You showed genuine concern about my foot. I know part of it was the excitement of possibly going to get a Band-aid, but you still worried about me after you understood I didn't need a Band-aid this time. Then a few minutes later you asked me if Nathan could share your banana with you, something that we used to do but haven't done much lately. You've been a little selfish about your banana lately, so offering it to your brother was incredibly sweet of you. It made me so happy to think that you were concerned with Nathan's happiness.

As is the case with most two-almost-three-year-olds, you vary from hour to hour, from minute to minute, between being totally sweet and lovable and whiny and frustrated. The unpredictability can take a lot out of me some days, especially when you're leaning on the whiny side. But then out of nowhere you'll clamber up into my lap and put your arms around me and just rest your head on me for a few seconds. That's when I remember my job as mommy isn't just to tell you no repeatedly and enforce time-outs and keep you from hurting yourself and your brother. I also get to be one of the two people you look up to and go to for comfort and love without fail the way only a two-almost-three-year-old can. And that is why you are so easy to love right back.

Love,

Mommy

Eleven Months

Dear Nathan,

I apologize already that I may get a little more sentimental than normal in today's letter. Now that you're eleven months, it has hit me like a brick at how close to a year old you are. One short, measly month is all I have until you join the ranks of emerging toddlers and your babyhood is just a memory. To say I'm not prepared is an understatement. Please help me make this month drag on by so that I can make the most of your last month of being the sweet, kissable baby you are.
Your daddy and I often play the game of guessing which one of us you resemble more. It goes without saying that you have Daddy's hair. I love the little curls that pop up over your ears and around your neckline. When Daddy was little like you, his hair was every bit as blonde as yours as well. It doesn't matter to me whether you stay towheaded like you are or if you get Daddy's dark hair, as long as you keep those curls. As far as your facial features, you also resemble Daddy, although I see bits and pieces of my grandfather and Gigi. I think you're going to be a particularly cute mix of all the genetic lines that went into making you.

The biggest development of the last month is your newfound mobility. Kid, you're fast! I can't understand how you can cross the room in a blink (or two) without ever getting on your knees and crawling. You're scooting lots faster than new crawlers. You've actually found that you prefer scooting to army crawling because you can control where you're going better this way. I think the tendency to get where you wanted to go backwards was starting to frustrate you.

I'm actually quite proud of you for finding a way to get where you're going even when crawling was proving too difficult at the moment. It's clear to me that you march to the beat of your own drummer (and dance to it too--too cute!). You don't care what you're supposed to be doing; you're going to do what you want, when you want. You'll crawl eventually, I'm sure, but there's no rush as long as you can still get where you're going. I'm not worried about your insistence to do things your own way either because you are so worried about pleasing me and Daddy already that you won't do anything that you've found makes us angry or disappointed. I'm afraid you take after me with that quality. You're going to grow up doing things your own way, but you'll have an overdeveloped sense of right from wrong. That's certainly a mixed blessing for all of us.

Here's an example of what I'm talking about: The other day you bit me while nursing. I gently pulled you back to remind you not to do that. You bit me again when I let you nurse again. This time I firmly told you no and gave you a gentle tap on your diaper to let you know I was serious. You broke out in the most pitiful cries. You weren't hurt, you just hated that I had told you no. You hated to think that you'd disappointed me. You're creative, clever, and persistent, but you can't handle being told you're doing something wrong. I'm thrilled that you want to only do things that are right, but I'm worried that at some point in the future you are either going to hold back from trying something in case it is wrong or someone is going to tell you what you're doing isn't right simply because it is different and squash that independent spirit you have.

Now that you're mobile, your relationship with Patrick is changing yet again. Suddenly you can get to his toys that have previously been kept out of your reach. The two of you are being forced to learn the hard lesson about sharing. Right now we're trying to find a compromise between toys that are definitely Patrick's, toys that are definitely yours, and toys that might have been Patrick's before but are good toys for both of you to play with. Neither of you is very happy to have a toy taken away, though, whether it was stolen from the brother or if I had to confiscate it because it wasn't yours. Patrick is finally starting to show some jealousy towards you now that you're encroaching on his territory, and when he isn't, he's playing a bit too rough with you. Still, you look up at him with those big adoring eyes and quickly forgive him when he hurts you, accidentally or otherwise.

Lately you've been quite the mama's boy. You've been waking up often at night thanks to some molars considering breaking through your gums, and especially then you have asserted your preference for me over your daddy. You still love having him around and laugh at his antics and try to get his attention, but you want me and only me to hold you. You did the same thing after waking up from a nap yesterday. When you're wide awake, you're more tolerant of snuggles with Daddy, but even then I think you'd be happier with me holding you. I understand that you're going through a mommy phase right now, and secretly I love it. There's something sweet about knowing I'm your everything right now, that only comfort from me will cut it. But my heart breaks for your daddy. He loves you every bit as much as I do, and I know he wants that satisfaction from being able to comfort you as well, just like he used to be able to do when you were just a newborn baby. For his sake, please keep this mommy phase short.

One more month. That's all the time I have to start changing my thinking into that of a mother of a pre-schooler and a toddler. You probably won't start walking the second you turn one and you'll probably still be nursing, but that magic day reminds me that you won't stay my tiny baby forever. I need to be used to the idea of you as a toddler shortly after you turn one anyway. I'm in no way ready for that, though. You've been such a sweet, wonderful baby, and I'm not ready to give that up yet, even if I'm trading that in for a sweet, wonderful toddler.

I've told you this before, and I'm going to tell you again: Take your time growing up. There's no rush. You can stay my baby boy just a little longer if you want to. But Mommy is going to love you every bit as much, even when you do embrace toddlerhood--all too soon.

Love,

Mommy

Thirty-Four Months

Dear Patrick,

Today you are exactly thirty-four months, a mere two months from turning three years old. Once again, I find myself writing your letter at Nana and Grandpa's, which seems to happen fairly often. The funny part is that despite this phenomenon, we don't see them nearly as often as we used to. Our visits just somehow seem to fall right around the 7th of the month. But that's okay because you seem to take your best pictures in places other than our house--at least your happiest.
One of the month's huge accomplishments is jumping. It's a skill you've been working on for a long time, but only recently have you been able to find yourself actually lifting off the ground. Now you regularly clear several inches every try--and that's a lot of tries. You spend much of your day hopping around, in imitation of frogs, toads, bunnies, and plain old Patrick. I wish I knew how you found all that energy to jump everywhere, when you're not skipping or running like an Olympian. It makes for one worn-out mommy by naptime, but your calves are going to end up very muscular at this rate. It's no wonder you don't gain much weight.

Speaking of that, you still aren't growing very fast. You seem to be growing straight up, but you have very little meat on your bones. Your youngest girl cousin has almost caught up to you already, and I'm sure the rest aren't far behind. It won't be long until even little Corey is handing down his clothes to you.

Recently we had to start a whole new wardrobe for you, one lacking any hard decoration of any kind, especially buttons, zippers, and snaps, so that we could save ourselves needing to repaint the entire house. When we did so, we immediately passed down all your pajama onesies to Nathan, who was barely squeezing into any of his. It was scary to realize that your underweight brother fills out those onesies nearly as well as you do. Once Nathan starts walking, I'm sure I'll start getting asked whether the two of you are twins.

Despite your size, though, you are mature for your age. Oh, not in language, of course--more on that in a minute--and much of the time not in obedience, but you are socially advanced. You want to be so helpful and insist on cleaning up after yourself (unless, of course, I ask you to). You help with Nathan without being bossy and let me know when you see something that needs attending to.

You are also so grown up with showing affection. For the first time in your short life, you are giving hugs and kisses on command and spontaneously. You'll only give them to people you know and love, but you don't hold back. There is nothing better than getting you out of bed in the morning to be greeted by a huge grin followed by a kiss. "Mmm-ma!" This loving side of your personality definitely makes up for all the times your disobedience frustrates me.

Another thing you do right now that I love is carry around Dinosaur. He goes with you everywhere, even outside the house right now. You want to share all your experiences with Dinosaur from meals and naptime to meeting new people and going new places. It is such a stereotypical toddler picture to watch you lugging around your comfort object, and you attract stares of the best kind everywhere we go. If that contagious grin and huge, expressive blue eyes weren't enough, Dinosaur gets smiles from the grumpiest-looking adults.

Unfortunately, your language is still lagging behind. Last week we had your six-month review with Miss Joann from ECI. She'd mentioned recently that your language had improved so much that she thought you might be ready to move on from ECI, that you might have gotten all the help you needed to catch up soon. But when we looked more carefully at all the milestones of all the areas of language development, we realized that you're not really that caught up. Yes, you are talking much more with a huge vocabulary and whole sentences, and we can understand so much more of what you say. But you talk according to your "own agenda," as Miss Joann put it. You talk about what you want to talk about, but you have difficulties holding whole conversations.

It's hard to explain exactly where the problem is because you do respond to questions--sometimes. If I ask you whether you want something and you do, you will repeat what it is you want. "Milk sippy?" "Milk sippy!" You do not answer yes or no, and if the answer is no, I usually don't get a response at all. When I ask an open-ended question, you stare at me blankly; whether it's from confusion or stubbornness, I have no idea. So even though I was hoping that you had advanced enough to outgrow ECI and catch up to normal almost-three-year-olds, you are staying in it for the time being. And in another two months you will graduate to the school district's care, where you will get all sorts of new therapy to have you caught up to your peers.

You ARE growing and maturing in every way, though, even your language. You are communicating so much more now than you were even a few months ago. My dreams of six months ago, before all this ECI stuff, were to be able to communicate enough with you to know your basic needs and hold some conversations about your interests. Even if you're not caught up, you can at least do that. I can understand you when you're upset because Sock Puppet didn't make it into bed with you or that Dinosaur needs a place at the table for lunch or that you want to color with black, not green. I can understand you when you go through all your bedtime phrases, and I can understand when you tell me, "I love you." And that's the one that really matters anyway, at least to me.

I love you too, Patrick.

Mommy