Sunday, April 15, 2012

Dear Little Altman

My Sweet Boy,

You are an amazing little being. I am sure all mommies say that (or at least I hope they do) but for real, you are pretty cool. Beyond cool.

We kept a pregnancy journal when I was pregnant. Altman read to you every night and we kept track of your growth and progress and learned so much about how you were growing. When you were born, we started writing in a notebook journal to you. We write sporadically but keep you informed on life happenings and how you are growing. We'd like to write more but you keep us pretty busy these days.

You are almost 3. You have conversations and you can actually argue a point now. You run everywhere and you are totally exhausting. I am pretty sure that you are smarter than both your father and I. You are very much like both of us. You are stubborn and strong willed and you give everything 100%. You are methodical in thought. You didn't talk when I wanted you to but when you started, you were making sense immediately and your language has evolved rapidly. I think you were forming the words in your head and waiting to use them correctly. When you figured it out, you were off and running. You are smart. You work real puzzles ridiculously fast and you are great at problem solving.

You are frustrating. You are so smart and so sweet and kind but you are a toddler and you whine when things don't go your way. As a toddler, you are hot and cold. Sweet and happy one minute and devilish the next. Luckily, the hard times don't last long. You are gracious and respectful. You use "please" and "thank you." Your sharing skills are getting better but you are still learning.

I never knew how much I wanted you until you were born. I never thought I wanted children because I didn't think I had enough patience to be a mommy. I can be selfish, self centered, and like things to go my way. You changed everything in such a way that I could never imagine. I discovered that I have more patience than I ever thought existed and that you teach me something new every minute I am with you. I tell you every day that I miss you when you are gone. I mean it.

We had dinner with friends last night and you were incredible with their little girl. I hope that you have a sibling one day to love and play with and fight with and live life's experiences and adventures.

For today, when you wake up, we'll play trains, take the dogs for a walk, and get ready for pre-school tomorrow. I hope you always know how much your father and I love you. You bring us much joy and happiness and you have given us a lifetime of love that we cherish.

I Love You Sweet Boy,
Mommy

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Simple

The doctor walked into the room today and said "Good Morning." Little Altman repeated it so clearly and so kid-like. "Good Morning."

The doctor said take a deep breath and he did. The doctor asked him to open his mouth and say "Ah" and he did. Just like a big kid.

I can remember in the first visits that we'd take Jackson to the doc and he was so tiny. We would take his clothes off and his diaper and lay him on the scale. I had to hold him the whole time because you couldn't just leave him on the table. Today, he stood on the big boy scale. Today, he climbed up and down the latter for the exam table.

Today, he wasn't tiny anymore. We went for a cold. He has a cough and a runny nose. Not a huge deal but after the pneumonia in 2011, I'd rather be safe than sorry.

He took the doctor's stethoscope and placed it around his own neck. He pretended to listen to his own heart. I stood there in awe of him realizing that he is growing so fast.

When he wears shorts, his legs aren't the tiny, chubby baby legs. He is tall for his age and very lean. He has boy legs. There is no baby chub to his face anymore. He looks like a little boy. When he smiles, he has a lot of teeth.

He counts everything. He can count to twenty and gets so excited every time he does it. I told him last night that he was procrastinating going to sleep and he said, "Yes, I crastinate."

Yes, everyone says it goes fast. And yes, I roll my eyes (in my head) when people say it. I say it too (and yes, I roll my eyes at myself) to parents with babies. It is amazing. 2 years and 9 months. Before I can blink, it will be July and he'll be 3. Then, he'll be 10.

What an amazing journey. It is so hard and it makes my head hurt sometimes. Some days, I just want 5 minutes of peace. Most of the time, I don't get it. By the time we get to bedtime, I have forgotten whatever it is that he was doing to drive me crazy. He wraps his arms around my neck and says, "I love you mommy." Four words. They are simple yet so profound.



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