Toddler

Hey there mister almost two year old.  Do you know how you drive your parents absolutely nutty with your crazy ways?  How you are always pushing us to the brink to see how much you can get away with.  The throwing of food on the floor, overturned pet food and water bowls, screaming, jumping and climbing on things you shouldn't.  Slapping me, slapping other kids, laughing in my face when I say no.  Saying bye dada when u want him to leave.   I've never been pushed to the edge this far before and then add in a healthy dose of sleep deprivation and it's like some sort of mid evil torture.  But here's how you really get me kid---

I see you run full speed for a puddle (after picking a "gape"/rose hip from a bush). And your hair is blowing all crazy blonde curls around your face and your covered in chocolate cookie and you jump with such enthusiastic glee that I cry laugh because your mine.  Your pointing out sailboats and laughing with closed eyes and you want up up up "carry you" and you want to touch that tractor and you want to walk alone but holding my hand.  And you know I feel it.  I get that every second is fleeting and someday you won't hold my hand, but someday you might not throw food either.  And it's a crazy roller coaster for anyone who loves a toddler.  The wanting to grow up a bit and the holding him a bit to tight sometimes and kissing his smushy cheeks because right now u can.  The fighting over of independence and dependence.  And I see your dad in your personality and myself In you aNd all our relatives but I mostly see you Alden.  My ball of crazy energy jumping monkey on the bed.  The nighttime small feet against my belly.  My crying, loving, goofy, toddler.  I adore you and you couldn't be anymore perfect to me.

A Beach day in Late March

Late March:

The Sea had been there all along.  I had forgotten my brain piled up with snow.  The ocean still layed upon the mud.
Glistening up the mussel shells to make me want to pick them up and hold them in my hand.  Later they would look less desirable, not as lovely without the wet sea salty upon them.
I jumped from rock from rock when I could of walked easily upon the pebbly beach.  It felt good for my legs and heart to work with my brain in some sort of long lost muscle memory of jumping along the beach as a kid. Leaping before much thought was put into it.  Today in sneakers, years ago in bare feet.
I watched my kid drawn to the sea, picking up rocks to throw out for our dog.  Upset when it was time to leave.  Looking longingly back over his shoulder and trying to double back when he thought we werent paying attention.  How to explain to a toddler that there will be much warmer beach days ahead.  They won't end because of a cold March wind.  Soon we can sit happily upon the warm sand and touch the cool water with our toes.

I've never been a Patient person, but I am a Patient Mom

Perhaps it was the blueberry handprint on the white doorway yesterday when I realized it.  Or the box of dry spaghetti that got dumped all over the floor for a second time, mainly because I wanted to do the dishes and thought it would keep him busy for a few more minutes.

Somewhere over the course of the last 15 months I have learned patience.  I have never ever been patient.  My husband says he can feel my impatience from across a room.  That I radiate it.  I am never late unless it’s something I don’t want to attend.  I am chronically early.  I can’t wait longer than 2 mins from onset of Hunger to when I eat.  I use to cry over spilt everything.  I am/was really almost a brat when it comes to when I want and need things.  But then I had Alden and so much shifted.

Do you know how much patience it takes to put a child in a car seat?  How about a child in a car seat when they don’t want to be in the car seat, and the strap is twisted and its 0 degrees out and really you just want to get him in there and go turn on the music and drink some lukewarm coffee.

Do you know how much patience it takes to be STARVING to death because you just fed your baby like one hundred times at night (that’s one hundred times of something poking and prodding at you, and you rearranging your body and letting your right arm go numb) but getting up and making sure his sippy cup is filled and clean and he has snack ready for when he wakes up (please just five mins of letting me eat a muffin alone little one).

Do you know what patience is when you are BEYOND TIRED after not sleeping because the whole family had a stomach virus, and you were catching puke in your hands and shirt. But he’s okay now and you are feverish but he wants to read GOODNIGHT GORRILLA for the one billionth time. And you do, and you do all the voices because he wants the voices and can tell if you aren’t into it.

Patience is: Saying no for the billionth time when he tries to put his hands in the toilet, singing itsy bitsy and made up songs in the car so he won’t cry, carrying him in the Ergo on a walk while your back hurts and you shove the boob in his mouth so he calms down so you can try to suck it up and ENJOY the 30 mins of quiet and look at trees and the ocean and try to remember who you are for a minute.  It’s not having a third drink when you really want one, its wiping blue hands and faces, its giving your body and mind over to another. It’s knowing you would give your life for your child’s in a heartbeat, less than a heartbeat.  Patience is what a Mother is.  And I think a Dad too—but this one goes out to the Moms.

Patience is Love unconditionally.  And Love is watching the blueberry covered smile look up at me and say Mama, or give me a hug and a MWAH.  Watching him learn something every day, and just being amazed by it.  Holding a hand as you walk and realizing you feel light with Love. Having his giggle make me cry.   

Thanks for the Patience little man, and for the Love.