Archive for the ‘milestones’ Tag
July 14 2010
When I was a kid, all we had were board games. I’d play with my mom or brother or whoever else I could prod into a game. I preferred playing with my mom, because on most occasions she’d let me win. Jedi has been raised in the digital age, however, and our house is full of tech gadgets. Most of what he plays are against computer opponents. Even the classics of my youth have been reinvented electronically.
Nothing takes the place of an actual board game, though. Of time spent gathered around a table as a family, rolling real dice in your hand and moving legitimate pieces. Which is why J bought the true version of Monopoly after Jedi had taken a particular interest in the iPad edition.
Game on!
Jedi vs. J, the matchup was set. I acted the important role of the money-hungry banker, which consisted of, but not limited to, keeping bills out of Abby’s grabby hands. Unfortunately, by the time we were ready, it was only half an hour until bedtime. Anyone who has ever played Monopoly knows that it can’t be appropriately played in a half hour.
Luckily, Jedi had to use the bathroom when it was almost time to call it quits. Which gave J an opportunity to make a swift deposit of all but 8 of his dollars to the bottom of Jedi’s cash pile. Technically cheating, but for a good cause. On J’s next turn, he landed on one of Jedi’s properties. The cost was more than J had, which meant the bout was over. Jedi “won” his first real game of Monopoly, with high-fives and fanfare. Because I’ve come to appreciate that in parenting, sometimes losing is winning as well.
February 01 2010
Jedi finally lost his first tooth the other night. The Tooth Fairy was tired that night, though, and didn’t feel like stopping by the ATM, so we didn’t put it under his pillow until the night after. He ran out of his room that morning, exclaiming, “I got $5!”. A tooth’s rate has gone up since I was a kid, that’s for sure.
January 25 2010
Dear Abby,
At 18 months, Abby, you are earning the name Little Shit outright. You have taken to hitting and biting as well as pinching, usually on Buzz, although the cat gets beat up, too. I can’t help but think this is a defense mechanism, and while probably needed, there are less hurtful options we need to explore. You are also loud enough to wake up astronauts orbiting in space, although this isn’t new.
Right after lunch, so her face is still messy.
As well as my little helper, you have also become a tattletale. You are exuberant and determined and I dare anyone try to take away whatever little piece has made it’s way into your shockingly strong grip. You test your boundaries daily, finding humor in my frustration. Stubborn and mischievous, I’m scared of what would happen if I took my eyes off of you for more than a minute. In other words, you are a typical, normal kid.
And yes, that is a summer dress over her pajamas.
But then, you stick your face right in front of mine for a kiss. “I love you”, you say, in jumbled beginner-speak. This makes everything else worthwhile.
You reach out to wrap your little hand around my finger as we walk, then you let go to run. Walking is for babies, apparently, and you, my dear girl, are no longer a baby. Though try as you might, you still have a bit of trouble keeping up. Then again, so do I.
What can I say? The girl has style.
I’m not gonna lie, these past 18 months haven’t been all sunshine and daisies. But one thing is certain: you are an amazing little girl and I am so proud and grateful to be your mom.
With all the love in my heart,
Me
January 21 2010
None of the kids have ever been inside of a dark, you-need-to-whisper style movie theater. Honestly, we were scared. I’m always worried we’re going to come off as one of those parents. You know the kind, they usually receive multiple eye rolls. The drive-in, yes, but even that was a disaster the last few times we tried, which were before Abby was even born. A disaster for me, anyway, since I was the one who felt the brunt of Buzz’s wrath.
J took the day off work yesterday, though, and got it in his head that he wanted to take Jedi to see Avatar. In 3D.
“What do you think?”, J asked me. “Do you think he’ll be OK to go?”
“It’s, like, a 3 hour movie”, I replied.
We hyped it up to Jedi anyway, and he was excited while I was a bit fearful, envisioning the worst. His loud voice getting constantly hushed and a million ants in his pants and so many trips to the bathroom during every pivotal scene. They went anyway. To eat popcorn. And candy. And gulp large fountain drinks (which might not be wise, actually, if trying to avoid bathroom breaks).
They sat quietly through the entire 3 hours, though, and only had to visit the bathroom once. After returning home, I asked Jedi how the movie was. Still clutching his 3D glasses, he beamed, “It was neat!”. If I was allowed to have 6 Reese’s peanut butter cups, a tub of popcorn, and a blue slushie, I’d probably think it was neat, too.
January 06 2010
My oldest boy, he’s tall and lanky. He outgrows most of his clothes in the blink of an eye. His soft-scented newborn days seem so distant, ancient, yet just like yesterday. He likes video games and playing with toy guns and he pretends he’s a soldier battling zombies. Even though I’ve been in denial, it’s safe to say that he’s not a baby anymore. To further cement that fact, he has his first loose tooth.
It was noticed during his bath last night. A very slight wiggle. The few times we discussed it wasn’t enough preparation apparently. “My baby teeth will fall out and then I’ll get big boy teeth!”, he’d say excitedly. When the time came, however, he had a mini-meltdown. He wouldn’t let us see it. He didn’t want to talk about it. He even cried. Big, fat rolling tears down his cheeks.
“He doesn’t want you to know he’s growing up”, J confided.
I remember feeling incredibly nervous bringing him home from the hospital. I didn’t know what to do with a baby. There’s a lot of things I regret about those first few months: I set him in his swing too often, I gave up breastfeeding too soon, my moods wouldn’t settle, my head was unsure, I doubted more than I believed. Through it all, he made me a mother. We fought through the trenches and came out hand in hand. And now my once fragile little boy, with a mess of curly hair and sea of blue eyes, is on the verge of a giant leap into growing up.
After he finally calmed down later that night, he urged optimistically, “Maybe it’ll fall out tomorrow!” It’s not going to be that soon, but it seems to be time I craft together some Tooth Fairy wings.
What is the going rate for a tooth these days?
