You at 22 Months!
Oliver,
I think of this blog as a baby book of sorts since I've seldom written in yours and couldn't now anway as it's locked away in storage. You have done so much in the last month that I want to make sure I capture what I can before it all ends. So if you'll allow me yet another bulleted list, I'm going to write as much down as I can possibly remember. Hopefully, years from now, I'll read it and picture you doing these very things since I haven't been great at getting videos of you. I'll work on it, darling.
You're growing up pretty fast, love. This past weekend, you started calling your Dada "Daddy." While he didn't seem to mind, it about broke my heart. I'm staying strong, though, honey, and staying hopeful that you won't stop calling me Mama. I think Mommy sounds whiny, but I may love to hear it from you if you really need me.
You've said two sentences in the last week that I've (da-da-da-DAAA!) written down:
You're working on getting naked. You still need a little help and encouragement. At bathtime, you help me turn on the water and then you run into your bedroom, plop down on the floor and with mighty grunts and dramatics, remove your socks. I have to pull down your pants a little bit in order for you to get your thumbs in, but then you sit down and pull your pants off. The process is little by little, which is only mildly excruciating to watch. You don't stop there, though. Last night I turned around to put your pants and socks in the hamper and when I came back you had your poopy diaper halfway off.
You're a jerk when it comes to diaper changes. You will not lay down for anything anymore - I've tried songs, toys, books, food, money...you squirm around like a half dead fish and I fear I'm going to rip your legs right out of their sockets. For non-poopy diapers, I have given in and let you stand. It's fine, really, we're used to it and my giant piano fingers do come in handy when I have to palm your belly like a basketball and hold one end of the diaper in order to get the other end fastened. We've got a system: You say "pee-pee" (which creeps your father out to no end) and I ask you to come over and get your diaper changed. You freak out, I chase you around the house, corner you like a Thanksgiving turkey and wrestle you to the ground before I deem it entirely worthless. Then I stand you up, tell you to "spread 'em" and you put your hands on my shoulders and perform a half-split. Eh, it works.
The time finally came for you a couple of weeks ago and you said "YEAH!" for the first time. It's so enthusiastic that it's womb-meltingly adorable. "Ollie, do you want to go downstairs?" "YEAH!" "Oliver, how about some green beans?" "YEAH!" "Is that Poppa that you're talking to?" "YEAH!" While this is pretty encouraging after I've been on the business end of too many tantrums, I do miss the affirmative grunts you used to give.
New words:
You also say "two" after I say "one." I would expand on my genius theory, but I think it's just because of my repetitive counting threats.
Speaking of singing, however, you have started singing to us. You were in the bath the other night and shushed me while I was singing "Baby Beluga." Then you started shaking your bottom sitting there in the water, cocking your head and singing "ya ya yaaa...boo boo boo..." And not just in one tone or note, you went all over the map.
Your teeth are causing you serious distress. We have you drugged up on Children's Tylenol about 66% of the time, I think. The pain is causing you to wake up in the middle of the night. This morning, at around 1:30am, I went up because you were crying. After about an hour of that hideous-falling asleep on me-I try to put you down-you wake up screaming-cycle, I was contemplating laying you down when you picked your head up, gave me a kiss on the cheek and pointed to your bed. I put you down and practically skipped down the stairs.
Yup, you're surely growing up, buddy. I'm so proud of you. But nothing compares to this past Monday when I got a call from your daycare. It was your first day of transitioning into another class and I had mentioned to them that I was a bit worried. I shakily removed the phone from the cradle silently calculating how much time I had in order to get to the daycare and remove you from whatever straitjacket they put seasoned biters in before it melted into your subconscious and created a circus for your future therapist. I didn't have to be worried, however. It was just your teacher calling to tell me that you were having a "fantastic" day and that she wanted to call to tell me because "we all need good news every now and again." Whoo hoo! To top it all off, you also sat on the potty that morning! You fell in, but you sat on it! :) Needless to say, you got a new shirt and about a pound of M&Ms that night before dinner. You bet that happened!
I love you, Oliver. I can't believe we have an almost two-year-old on our hands. You have enriched our lives in ways we could never have fathomed, love. Sleep well and I can't wait to get you up in the morning and see what else you seemed to have learned overnight!
I think of this blog as a baby book of sorts since I've seldom written in yours and couldn't now anway as it's locked away in storage. You have done so much in the last month that I want to make sure I capture what I can before it all ends. So if you'll allow me yet another bulleted list, I'm going to write as much down as I can possibly remember. Hopefully, years from now, I'll read it and picture you doing these very things since I haven't been great at getting videos of you. I'll work on it, darling.
You're growing up pretty fast, love. This past weekend, you started calling your Dada "Daddy." While he didn't seem to mind, it about broke my heart. I'm staying strong, though, honey, and staying hopeful that you won't stop calling me Mama. I think Mommy sounds whiny, but I may love to hear it from you if you really need me.
You've said two sentences in the last week that I've (da-da-da-DAAA!) written down:
- "I like the bubbles!" This was when your dad and I found a special on Elmo and Buzz ("Buss" to you) Lightyear bubbles and spent about a week and a half enveloping you in soapy fun. You would shout that you wanted "Elmo!" and "Buuuuss?" and we knew that meant bathtime. Unfortunately, we had to hide them because it turned out they really dried out your skin. These did come in handy around the time you were starting to freak out about the bath. We feel like we dodged a giant bullet on that one.
- "I want more milk and juice!" came out very clearly one morning. Of course, I poured them both for you in your ("byoo!" (blue) and "leh-wo" (yellow)) cups, and you immediately shrieked and started crying because I answered your wish.
You're working on getting naked. You still need a little help and encouragement. At bathtime, you help me turn on the water and then you run into your bedroom, plop down on the floor and with mighty grunts and dramatics, remove your socks. I have to pull down your pants a little bit in order for you to get your thumbs in, but then you sit down and pull your pants off. The process is little by little, which is only mildly excruciating to watch. You don't stop there, though. Last night I turned around to put your pants and socks in the hamper and when I came back you had your poopy diaper halfway off.
You're a jerk when it comes to diaper changes. You will not lay down for anything anymore - I've tried songs, toys, books, food, money...you squirm around like a half dead fish and I fear I'm going to rip your legs right out of their sockets. For non-poopy diapers, I have given in and let you stand. It's fine, really, we're used to it and my giant piano fingers do come in handy when I have to palm your belly like a basketball and hold one end of the diaper in order to get the other end fastened. We've got a system: You say "pee-pee" (which creeps your father out to no end) and I ask you to come over and get your diaper changed. You freak out, I chase you around the house, corner you like a Thanksgiving turkey and wrestle you to the ground before I deem it entirely worthless. Then I stand you up, tell you to "spread 'em" and you put your hands on my shoulders and perform a half-split. Eh, it works.
The time finally came for you a couple of weeks ago and you said "YEAH!" for the first time. It's so enthusiastic that it's womb-meltingly adorable. "Ollie, do you want to go downstairs?" "YEAH!" "Oliver, how about some green beans?" "YEAH!" "Is that Poppa that you're talking to?" "YEAH!" While this is pretty encouraging after I've been on the business end of too many tantrums, I do miss the affirmative grunts you used to give.
New words:
- Buh-err-fiii = butterfly
- Zherrrt = shirt
- Ish = fish. Combined with an excited point and my heart is melted.
- Cock = quack. Obviously, this took some getting used to.
- Cacka = cracker
- Brr = cold
- Bess = vest. Since Daddy wears his all the time, you decided you should probably too.
- Pah-cah = Soccer. This was just learned tonight when we watched Daddy's soccer game and you ran around pointing him out to everyone that you didn't know.
You also say "two" after I say "one." I would expand on my genius theory, but I think it's just because of my repetitive counting threats.
Speaking of singing, however, you have started singing to us. You were in the bath the other night and shushed me while I was singing "Baby Beluga." Then you started shaking your bottom sitting there in the water, cocking your head and singing "ya ya yaaa...boo boo boo..." And not just in one tone or note, you went all over the map.
Your teeth are causing you serious distress. We have you drugged up on Children's Tylenol about 66% of the time, I think. The pain is causing you to wake up in the middle of the night. This morning, at around 1:30am, I went up because you were crying. After about an hour of that hideous-falling asleep on me-I try to put you down-you wake up screaming-cycle, I was contemplating laying you down when you picked your head up, gave me a kiss on the cheek and pointed to your bed. I put you down and practically skipped down the stairs.
Yup, you're surely growing up, buddy. I'm so proud of you. But nothing compares to this past Monday when I got a call from your daycare. It was your first day of transitioning into another class and I had mentioned to them that I was a bit worried. I shakily removed the phone from the cradle silently calculating how much time I had in order to get to the daycare and remove you from whatever straitjacket they put seasoned biters in before it melted into your subconscious and created a circus for your future therapist. I didn't have to be worried, however. It was just your teacher calling to tell me that you were having a "fantastic" day and that she wanted to call to tell me because "we all need good news every now and again." Whoo hoo! To top it all off, you also sat on the potty that morning! You fell in, but you sat on it! :) Needless to say, you got a new shirt and about a pound of M&Ms that night before dinner. You bet that happened!
I love you, Oliver. I can't believe we have an almost two-year-old on our hands. You have enriched our lives in ways we could never have fathomed, love. Sleep well and I can't wait to get you up in the morning and see what else you seemed to have learned overnight!
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