Dear Old Fart That I Love,

Yes, you forget things *cough* occasionally.  Your knees are bad (snap, crackle, pop!).  You tell Braden it’s time for his bath when it’s time for his nap.  You tell him it’s time for his nap when it’s time for his bath. (By the way, he doesn’t even notice – I’m the only one who does.  And I’m required to make fun of you for it, so just get used to it.)

Don’t even think about sharing that pudding with him – you know it will go right to your old gut.

Your hair might be thinning… don’t worry, you’re going to get more and more of it in your nose and ears to make up for this.  Your back hurts, but I’m here to distract you from that by demanding that you rub mine (and don’t forget my feet)!  I am just that loving.

And yes, I might feel the need to make endless jokes about you being old just because you turn 40 today.

It’s because I love you.  And I’m glad you’ve been around for this long, and I’m hoping to make fun of how freaking old you are for so very much longer.

You are a wonderful (old ass) daddy and fabulous (decrepit, aging) husband.  Hey – look at it this way:  When men age, society kindly chooses to say that they are developing a bald head and a fat gut character and charm.  Women?  Get slow, fat and grow a beard.  Maybe don’t worry so much about your aging – it’s mine you might want to start being concerned about.  *wink*

Be careful on the road and hobble home as soon as you can.  I will miss your old ass from afar for now, you wonderful, old fart.

Happy 40th Birthday!

Love,
Your hot, young wife.

Goodbye, Cruel Year

December 31, 2008

Dear 2008,

You were my first full year of blogging on my very own, self-hosted website from beginning to end. That was a happy thing about you. As I have written and published posts on my website this year, I’ve learned, grown, healed, changed, triumphed, laughed and cried.

I had a few trolls, it’s true. And unfortunately, I often take the trolls too seriously. I’m an emotional, sensitive chick with a high need for love and a fair amount of insecurity – it’s easy to slice me to the core. But, yes, trolls are just silly, angry people with too much time on their hands. I think Backpacking Dad said it in my favorite way recently, on Redneck Mommy‘s site:

“I love trolls. They’re so cute when they take their little poos everywhere.”

What’s more important about blogging for this whole year is that I’ve made wonderful friends and received love and kindness, as well as laughter and good cheer, from people I never would have met if I hadn’t stuck with this blogging business.

2008, that was so good about you.

My baby turned into a little boy this year, too, 2008. He had his first haircut and finished getting all his teeth (finally!). He asked to sit in a big chair (!!!), and the high-chair is gone.

My little boy, just this past week, left his crib. He is sleeping in a bed now. *heart beating hard*

He sings songs with words, and dances. He counts to 20 and knows all his letters. He can drink from a juice box and he’s learning how to brush his own teeth. He can take off his socks, pull down his pants, and he’s playing with the idea of actually using the potty again.

He snuggles his cheek up against mine, puts his hand on my other cheek and says, “Hufff-yooo.”

He quotes Spongebob Squarepants and asks me for milk when he’s thirsty.

He looks at me and says, “Aww, duuuude.”

No longer a baby, he is a boy.

This is bittersweet, 2008. My heart gets this panicky, tight feeling as I watch Braden grow so fast, 2008. So very fast.

But then it swells with pride. He is MY boy. I am so grateful for him.

So that has been good, as well, 2008.

I even finally lost the last 15lbs of my “baby weight” and got back to pre-pregnancy sveltness while you were around! That was phenomenally good, 2008. I was so incredibly happy to be moving more swiftly, and feeling lighter. (And fitting back into those hot jeans was certainly not a bad thing – bow chicka.)

Also, 2008, you gave me not just one, but two more babies. What a joy it is to find out there is a life growing inside of you. What an amazing, phenomenal thing that so many take for granted – a thing many of us just brush off as easy, or incidental.

It’s not, 2008. It’s incredible. It’s a delicate, vulnerable thing.  A beautiful thing. When a live baby is born, it is a miracle of sorts.

Every time.

You taught me that, 2008.

You took them both back before I got to kiss their foreheads. I miss them so much.

That was very much not a good thing. I don’t like you right now, 2008. It’s going to take me a very long time before I can look at you again without tears in my eyes. I want to grab you and shake you until you feel as bad as I do.

I keep trying to be mature about it, 2008, and see all the good things we had together.  I keep trying to count my blessings, 2008, because I know they are many!

But you know what?

Right now, I just can’t. And that’s okay. For awhile, I think I am going to let myself hate you with all of my heart.

For awhile, I am going to be a child.

It’s not fair, 2008. It’s not fair.
I’m not your friend anymore, and I don’t want to play with you ever again.

It’s not fair.

2009′s Anxious Mistress,
Lotus

I Believe.

Have you written your letter to Santa yet?  What are you waiting for?

Don’t tell me… you don’t… BELIEVE!?

Give your serious side a break this month and get wrapped up in the idea that some fat guy who lives with a bunch of midgets is going to break into your house while you’re sleeping and stuff random crap into your socks!


COME ON, IT’S FUN!

Seriously, though, writing a little letter to Santa with your kids is a fun way to let the imagination and magic sparkle at this time of year.

And right now Macy’s is making it even better, with their Believe Campaign.

In 1897 a little girl named Virginia O’Hanlon wrote a letter to the Editor of The New York Sun:

Dear Editor,

I am 8 years old.  Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.  Papa says if you see it in The Sun it’s so.  Please tell me the truth.  Is there a Santa Claus?

The Editor published his response in The New York Sun.  An excerpt:

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.  He exists just as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy.

You can see the full response here.

Right now, Macy’s Believe Campaign is asking you to help preserve that magic for your kids by writing letters to Santa with them.  And for every letter you bring to Santa’s Letterbox at Macy’s, they will donate $1 to the Make-A-Wish Foundation (a non-profit charity that grants wishes to children with life-threatening medical conditions).

So let yourself Believe.

16 Months

Dear Braden,

Today, you are 16 months old.

As I sit here, and your pee dries on my jeans (thanks for that!), I’m amazed that another month has flown by.  Somehow I know that it’s never going to stop being like this… eventually it will be years that have flown by and I’ll still be sitting here, even more amazed.  Hopefully by then I won’t have your pee stain on my jeans.

This past month, your Daddy and I decided to restrict use of The Paci.  The Paci is now only available for nap, bedtime,

and severe teething times/moments of exceptional distress. 

There have been a few… outcomes. 

The Shriek was actually subsiding a bit, but with removal of The Paci, it has now become The Shrill, Agonizing Scream of One Thousand Deaths.  You have practiced and developed it, and now it is fuller, longer, louder and more high pitched than ever.  Mariah Carey could be put to shame by you.

I should be proud, I know.

You have learned to remedy your lack of Paci chewing opportunities by fitting your thumb and first 2 fingers into your mouth in the precise areas of your current teething.  Resourceful boy!  Of course, some moments call for more than just precision. They call for as much hand as you can cram into your facehole.

But the talking.  Restricting the use of The Paci has resulted in so much more talking.  We have actual conversations with you now!  And we even pretend to understand you!  But we don’t!  Well. Okay.  Sometimes we do, like when you yell, “I Said!” while wagging your finger.  I have no idea why you do that.  It’s certainly not because Daddy and I are always yelling at The Doggie, “I said!”  … get in your bed, … sit, … lie down, … stop eating turds. Fine.  It’s true.  We have the most disobedient doggie in the world! 

It’s a good thing he’s cute. 

And that you love him.

Another recent favorite is “mum-mum-mum” which means “yummy” or “yum-yum.”  You say this to give your opinion of food you are currently eating… as well as to request the food that others are eating.  No food is ever not potentially YOUR food. 

I’ve noticed that you also say, ”mom-mom-mom,” but it is difficult to distinguish from the other, and does not happen as often.  Should  I be offended?  Or should I just strive to be more “yummy?”  I guess it doesn’t much matter, since sometimes you actually say, “momma.”  Like tonight, when you hugged me, cooed, warmly said, “Mom-mah,” and smiled sweetly at me.

Accordingly, I have added everything you ever wanted to the shopping list for this week.

There is so much more.  Isn’t there always?

You have gotten very good at waving, although you still resist doing it right away at times.  Other times you can’t wait to wave and say, “hhhiiii!” Even to your Baby Einstein DVDs. Hm.

Of course, you also thoroughly enjoy waving and saying “hhhiiii” to yourself in the mirror. But hey, who can blame you. You’re totally good looking. 

When your Daddy goes out the door, you stand watching it, waving, saying, “Bye.”  It’s enough to rip my heart right out of my chest, I tell you.

When we’re just hanging out, you still love to read books.  Quite often, you do this independently.  You go get a book from your bookshelf, then sit down and read (out loud or to yourself). 

Lately, you have started bringing me books to read.  I can’t tell you how good it feels when I see you select a book, toddle over to me, and sit in my lap with it.  I don’t know how I’m going to keep taking this Being Proud thing without passing out from the emotional high.

By the way, you are a pro at using the shape-sorter now! You are very good with the circle and even the star. And I melt a little inside every time you hold up the circle, with an inquisitive look on you face, and ask me, “what?” I say, “Circle!” and you say, “sirsle.” *melt*

When we’re not reading books or playing with toys, you like to do some good old fashioned running around, being loud, and laughing your head off, or dancing.  You have added an up and down bootie-shake dance to your usual swaying move.  I approve 100%. Of course, your Stomp Dance (complete with bellowing yell) is still in full effect.  A new thing, however, is that for your favorite song, Itsy Bitsy Spider, you now do the hand movements.  You are simply amazing.

Oh yeah, I need to take a moment to thank you for finally learning how to put your drink cup on the table! It has been a momentous accomplishment!

Sometime this past month, you started doing this all on your own. And even when you drop it to the floor, Daddy or I can ask you to pick it up and put it on the table, and you understand, and follow through. Huge. HUGE. In fact, your Daddy and I nearly pee ourselves every time you do this.

Oh, but, yeah. I also need to take a moment and tell you that the game you’ve been playing this past week, where you picked THAT behavior to be the current thing you’re testing me on? Has been very tiring. Because now you sometimes put the drink cup on the table… and sometimes you throw it down, and when we ask you to put it on the table, you look at it, look at us, and absolutely refuse. There has been a shift from “not understanding” to “willful denial.” Way to keep me on my toes, son! You are the MAN.

Just be aware that I WILL break you.

The sheer increase in your ability to “know what’s going on” is astounding.  Daddy and I can’t fool you anymore.  We are already having to spell things out to “trick” you.  You may not be able to speak our language perfectly, but you certainly understand it.  That’s more than you can say for us, isn’t it?

You are constantly exploring the world around you. It’s a treasure to witness your journey; to be there as you soak it all in…

and to laugh with you when you discover a simple amusement.

I have still not allowed anyone to come near your hair with scissors. 

I’m not sure when that will happen, really.  I love your beautiful, silken hair too much.  I fear that it will never be wispy like this again, and I’m too selfish still to let go of that.  You are borderline mullety, but I think you’re just cute enough to get away with it.

You are just now getting over your third cold ever.

I remember your first cold. You got it the night before you cut your first teeth.

(Those were the only 2 teeth you had for 2 months!)

I also remember your second cold, when your nose got all plugged up overnight, but you were such a trooper.

This current cold has really dragged on and made you miserable. 

It has been a long week of short tempers and screaming fits, with both of us sick together. But I have had so many colds that I have no way of knowing how many.  You have only had three.

You have only had 3, little colds.

You are still so small.

Even though you are getting way too big, you are still so small.

I am holding on to that for now.

Love,
Momma