Two Day Whirlwind Romance

Last weekend I fell in love. With Blackthorne.

No, the object of my swooning is not some tragic protagonist in an 18th century novel, it's a gloriously quirky 4-storied cottage nestled in the woods of the Inverness mountains near the San Francisco Bay.

These pictures seriously do not do it justice. Every inch of its handsome structure was beautifully decorated and curated by some designer who did a darn good job.

And there was a hot tub! No grand cottage is complete without one.

The only problem was the staircase. Long and narrow like a cathedral tower, little Noah refused to step foot on them. And so I became his personal stair piggy-backing elevator the entire 2 days we were there. Ugh.

Blackthorne is one of those places I would see casually flipping through a travel and leisure magazine at the dental office and NEVER think of booking a stay at. 

1. Because I'm lazy and like hobbits, don't like venturing far from home. And 

2. Because I'm cheap, like hobbits.

I'm basically a hobbit?!

But thank goodness for life-long friends who are our complete opposites and call you up on a random Wednesday morning to see if you'd like to go on a big trip the next day.

Most of the "cool" experiences I've had in life, I attribute completely and solely to this girl. I'm pretty sure, one day, she'll be the reason I parachute out of an airplane or some other such nonsense.

But as if staying in such a charming lodge wasn't enough, we had myriad other delights!

One of the house guests was an expert in Japanese pancake art! She made Judah a jaguar y'all (his favorite animal)! WOW!

And made Noah a bulldozer! IMPRESSIVE!

I got to dabble in the dark arts of Virtual Reality - I was like unto a god (while looking like a dweeb).

And we visited a cool nature center complete with surrounding kid-friendly hiking trails.

One of the trails led to a preserved Native American village. The kids enjoyed running into every teepee. One day I'll tell Judah about the slaughter of the first peoples and he'll feel as sad as I did during the visit. But until then - all smiles!

There were beautiful views of Tomales Bay and the kids enjoyed picking up all kinds of sea shells along the shore.

We passed by a quaint little town that had artisanal shops like Cow Girl Creamery.

An old man in a wheelchair passed by while we sat down to rest and exclaimed - Let me take your picture!

I handed him my iPhone and he confessed he did not know how to use it.

Not a bad shot for a non-phone shooter!

Afterward he kept thanking us for just being there. Family, it's a beautiful thing, he kept on saying.

We didn't bother correcting him about our actual non-blood relations.

Because, well, he pretty much got it right.

Curious Guy and Shy Guy

It's update time!

Noah

Noah is really into asking about my favorites. Not like as a followup to me first asking him about his favorites - just as a random opening conversation question. It's weird to me because Judah never once asked me what my favorite anything is. Judah is definitely more passive and Noah more active when it comes to finding out about the world.

Every day Noah asks things like:

Mommy, what's your favorite color?
Coral
What's your second favorite color?
Sky Blue
What's your third favorite color?
*seriously, my third one?* Magenta
What's your fourth favorite color?
*what the heck is wrong with this kid?!* Uh...Grass Green

Sometimes he asks what my favorite animal is.
Or my favorite number.
Or ice cream flavor.

Today he asked me my favorite shape.

I replied - Circle.

He said his favorite was a cube.

I was pretty sure he meant square.

But then he talked about the time we made cubes out of toothpicks and marshmallows. Okay, you win Noah. I'm sorry I'm always underestimating your knowledge. You're still my baby!!!!

Judah

Judah is so shy it's kind of unbelievable. Except I totally believe it because it's EXACTLY me.

As a kid I used to wait until everyone was out of the house - then I'd put on my special dancing outfit (pink long t-shirt pajama tied with my mom's pink bathrobe tie) and put on techno music and dance my heart out.

And then the other week I put on some dance music and watched Judah start grooving for a second only to freeze and say - Mommy, I'm embarrassed. I love dancing but I don't want to do it in front of you.

WHAT?! THAT'S ME!

I've always hated being ashamed of my self-expression - what's the good of dancing and singing if you can't do it WITH others? So I tried my best to coax Judah out of his shyness. And with the help of Taylor Swift, before I knew it, we were twirling around the playroom doing all kinds of made up "real" moves - twirl, spin-around, break-apart, under my legs!

It made me feel redeemed.

But Judah's still too shy to sing his made-up songs in front of me. Instead, the most I can get him to do is take my smartphone to a secluded room, record the song by himself, and then hand me the device while he goes back to hide in said secluded room as I listen to the song he just recorded.

For that one function alone, I'm glad I got a smartphone.

It's filled with the fingerprints of his soul - a barely braved whisper of his true self.

The Assassin and the Wierdo

Between the last post and this one I've actually written 100 blog entries...in my head.

Unfortunately, I don't really remember any of them, but here are some crumbs...which is kind of a perfect analogy of my life in a way.

My future celibate assassin - don't laugh, he could kill you.

Judah. Judah has talked about which girls he would like to marry since he was 2 year old. But now, at the ripe old age of 5 and a half, he has announced that he will be a lifelong celibate. In his own words:

Mommy, I'm not going to marry anyone. Because I'm going to be an assassin when I grow up. That job is too dangerous for me to get married.

Well, it's nice to know he doesn't want to leave anyone widowed and bereaved.

Noah. Noah is becoming a really OCD kind of guy and it's driving me crazy. One of his worst pet peeves is getting wet, even if it's just a tiny droplet of water.

Future crazy homeless guy - emphasis on the crazy.

This is going to SUCK during the Summer when water play will be everywhere. Any accidental splash of water anywhere on his body or even just his clothes results in giant tears and a demand to change out of his wet gear. Even if the sun would literally dry it up before I can run upstairs and get a new shirt for him.

Recently, whenever he washes his hands, he has to dry them on a towel. And then dry them again on a paper towel. AND THEN dry them again on another paper towel. I'm so sorry rainforest trees - but I promise - I do collect and reuse these paper towels again!

This insanity reached an all new level of ridiculosity last week when Noah decided he couldn't even stand the feeling of wetness on his cheeks that were a result from his own tears.

He would cry about something and then cry about having wet cheeks.

And then cry about having more wet cheeks.

And then cry about having even more wet cheeks...

Ad nauseum

And now you know about the infinite loop of toddlerdom hell.

Oh yes, it's REAL.

The Good, the Bad, and the Fat Shaming

Life seems to be accelerating at break neck speed now that I'm with the kids a LOT more than I was previously (before Noah's preschool situation imploded and before I reduced Judah's time in after school daycare).

I can hardly find time to clear dirty plates off the counter and wipe down crumbs, much less maintain a blog of our ins and outs.

But I must! I must! Because this will be my only record of these soon to be bygone days of early childhood chaos and joy. I can think of no better application of Dickens' famous lines - It was the best of times! It was the worst of times.

First the best...

Child development books all say that age 5 is the "golden" year of childhood. And with Judah it is completely TRUE. He wants to be good. He aims to be good. And about 95% of the time he succeeds swimmingly.

 


He's so "good" in fact that he broke into tears last week when I told him that he'll one day be a teenager and will intensely dislike his parents.

Every teenager finds his parents annoying, Judah. They feel like they already know everything and that their parent's rules are simply there to frustrate them and keep them from enjoying life.

No Mommy! I don't want to be a teenager!

He was so distressed that I finally decided he could only be helped by a higher power. And so I told him to pray about it. That sweet boy, he immediately bowed his head and said the most precious thing.

Dear God, thank you for our life stages (Life stages! I kid you not, that is verbatim - the rest I'm paraphrasing from memory). Please let me be a good teenager and not hate my parents. Amen.

Man, I wish this kid could stay "5" forever.

And then the not so good...

Noah has always been a short, fat kid. Especially juxtaposed to his long, lean brother.

Noah at 7 months: poster-child for childhood diabetes or baby sumo-wrestling.

When Judah went through his "I'm Batman" phase, he often pointed to his baby brother and declared that Noah was "the Penguin".

Unfortunately, Judah's teasing of his brother has persisted and now Noah tells me at least once a day "Mommy, I'm fat."

I usually respond with a avalanche of reassurance.

You're not fat Noah!
You're perfect!
I love you just the way you are!
You're wonderful!
You're not fat. And even if you were, there's nothing wrong with being fat.
But you're not fat!
Hippos are wider than giraffes, that's how they're supposed to be.
You're just the way you should be!
Everyone's different and that's okay!

Why can't he understand he has THE PERFECT little body?

This week, instead of my usual tirade, I decided to ask Noah a further question. Maybe I'm reading to much into his statement - I'm fat, mommy. Maybe he identifies as "fat" but doesn't feel like it's a bad thing to be fat.

So I took a deep breath and said, "And how does that make you feel, Noah?"

He looked down and in a small voice whispered, "embarrassed."

Mommy heart. Broken.

My Life: A Long Downhill Slide

Ugh, I'm so behind on blogging. Massive photo dump time!

My life is in complete shambles after being pelted with 3 weeks of crazy sh*t storms. Nothing totally catastrophic, but things disruptive enough to decimate several days of productivity.

First, I broke my right arm bone (a radial head fracture for all you anatomy nerds out there). Goodbye one solid week of productivity.

The next week Judah had Spring break. Goodbye another solid week of productivity.

And then Noah's preschool teacher quit and before she could finish her last 2 weeks, was fired all of a sudden. There has been some shady stuff going on with management so I just pulled Noah out this week. So goodbye third consecutive week of productivity!

But time stops for no one! Spring has sprung!

How do I know? Judah's school is pushing "spring portraits" on parents. Portrait companies are so smart now - why settle for ONE school picture a year when you can do two?

But not smart enough for this cheap Asian parent. Picture of a picture - voila!

Easter came and went. It was great and I especially love our Easter selfie because he's still at the age when he is thrilled to take a picture with his mom. Judah is saying "Happy Easter!"

Although Noah's birthday is in January, he usually doesn't get his well-check ups until March because (a) I'm a germaphobe and try not to step into a doc's office during flu season and (b) I just can't get my act together until many months later.

Noah is doing great, but the doc was worried he didn't have both testacles descended. I was shocked. And then ensued a really awkward conversation with his male doc, complete with hand gestures, about the male anatomy and how I need to look for my toddler's parts during his next warm bath.

Which I did, and I'm happy to report, crisis averted.

During Judah's Spring Break, Noah still went to preschool. And Judah started missing his brother a lot. So I told Judah to do what I always tell him to do when he has overwhelming feelings - write and draw. How can a mother's heart not treasure this forever?!

During Judah's spring break we frolicked a lot outside.

Judah actually climbed to the top of this ridge one day, came back with a handful of poppies and declared - I found heaven!

Me too my love, I'm looking right at it.

We also finally renewed our zoo membership after letting it lapse for 2 years. Now that the kids are 3 and 5 (and avid fans of Wild Kratts) zoo trips are a lot more fun.

But their favorite thing there is still the rides.

Yesterday it was crazy hot - 90+ degrees! so we pretended it was Summer for one day and broke out all the warm weather stuff.

The brothers opened an ice cream and cookies shop:

And then I told them they could play with water after lunch, which elicited the biggest mid-day grins ever:

And then they splashed around the baby tub and realized quickly, it wasn't that fun.

And then Noah was suicidal...or maybe just thirsty.

But honestly, this pic sums up how I feel pretty well. 3 straight weeks of pain, disruption and constant child care and I'm done. D.O.N.E.

Tomorrow I visit a new preschool for Noah and, fingers-crossed, they will be the solution to all my problems. PLEASE, Lord, have mercy.

So I broke my first bone...

This may just be the most idiotic picture I've ever taken.

Here I am in crazy pain from fracturing my right elbow joint, waiting in the ER all day, and smiling?!?! Seriously?! Just a few minutes ago I was crying actual tears and my face looked grimmer than the reaper's as I contemplated the impossibility of cooking, cleaning, driving, or doing childcare with only one arm for weeks? months?

What about all my home-improvement projects? In particular, I was so excited to start tearing out some gnarly plants to clear some gardening space now that the soil was all prepped from a recent record rainfall. But there would be no wielding my giant shovel now. Sigh, maybe next year.

Soon, after I got home, I realized even perforating toilet paper was an impossible struggle for my ultra-pain-sensitive arm. I finally gave up and used a combo of my left arm and teeth. Oy. You know you are truly f*cked when TP is too much for you to handle.

But it wasn't just the loss of my dominant arm that bothered me - it was the pain. The raging, flaming, burning, never ceasing, I can't find any position that doesn't hurt, pain.

Pain that hounds you like a shadow to the point where nothing could distract you from it. Pain that feels like a crucible in which your actual identity starts to warp. Pain that becomes an ocean's roar and a hot glare shining right into your eyes. Pain that turned me inward and away.

The 3 year old's depiction of mommy with a broken arm - looks like a creature from hell - very accurate.

For two days I felt unceasing pain that wavered between a 7 and 9. I started to completely understand how chronic pain sufferers would commit suicide. Actually I started wondering why more chronic pain sufferers DIDN'T commit suicide. And I cursed the medical policies that made my docs advise me to only manage my pain with tylenol and motrin. Seriously? What do you have to do to get some Vicodin around here? Break a bone?!

And then on the third day I woke up to the sound of silence. My arm had finally stopped screaming at me. Oh it still hurt to be sure, but at least now I didn't feel compelled to swallow a raft of OTC drugs that had started to give me major stomach pains - the lesser of two evils.

But I still despaired. I don't want to go in for a numbing shot so the bone doc can check my range of motion. I don't want to get surgery if the range is impeded. Having needles and instruments stuck in me just makes me viscerally recoil...and kinda totally scream on the inside in panic.

And of course my mind revisits over and over again the moment things took a sharp dive for the worse. One second I'm fine. The next second I'm royally screwed.

One second I'm running down my driveway about to get something from my parked car, excited to take a nice stroll through the sunny neighborhood after 5 straight days of rain. And the next second I had slipped on a pile of still-wet leaves while rounding a corner.

Half a second. Flat.

The rest of that day was spent in urgent care. The rest of the next day was spent at the orthopedics. And a good chunk of the next day was spent getting a CT scan. Today is the only day I will not have some major medical appointment. But tomorrow will be judgment day - the day my bone doc looks at my CT scan, injects a giant numbing needle into my elbow, and determines if I need surgery. The moment I've been dreading.

Through all the endless waiting in waiting rooms, I (luckily?) had an e-book on my phone that I'd been very excited to read - When Breath Becomes Air - a memoir about a 36 year old neurosurgery resident who discovers that he has late-stage lung cancer. While I was totally entertained and absorbed by his fantastic writing and intriguing insights, I wonder if that was probably not a good reading choice - maybe I should've opted for something lighter and funnier - like by the SNL ladies.

Contemplating living while dying a horrible death in the midst of my own personal fear and pain is just not the kinda thing that lifts one's spirits, you know?

But you know what does lift one's spirits? All the acts of kindness and well-wishes from friends. Thank you friends! Those are sweet sweet balms indeed.

Which leads me to that ridiculous picture of me smiling. The spouse, who could've been understandably annoyed at losing his one day-off to a long hospital visit, and at the looming loss of all his free-time and then some to more housework and way more child-care, and a lot more driving duties for an indefinite period, was astonishingly smiling at me behind the lense.

Kindness.
Patience.
Graciousness.
And love.

It's impossible not to smile at that.

Brother and Brother

Judah's car song:

Brother and brother
We're BFFs
We're BFFs

Brother and brother
We're BFFs
We're BFFs

When Noah is sad
I comfort him
And when I'm sad
He does the same for me too

We're BFFs
Best friends for life!

I have always given Judah a lot of credit for establishing the good rapport the kids have with each other. I think the oldest child sets the tenor of the whole relationship - is it nurturing? Is it competitive? Is there generosity?

And because Judah, by temperament, hates to see other people suffer, he has always chosen to satisfy Noah's needs ahead of his own. NOT because Judah is a saint but because, as Judah puts it, "It gives me a headache when Noah cries. It makes me feel so bad, mommy." I think he's like me - extremely conflict avoidant.

So even when Judah was only 2 and half, and desperately wanted some huggle snuggle time with me, he would forgo it because Noah cried the second I put him down to make room for hugging Judah.

But recently, I realized Noah should get quite a bit of credit for their brotherly love. He worships Judah like a hero. He thinks of his brother often. When he gets a treat or a goodie bag at school he always makes it a point to share it with Judah. But this is the part that really blows me away.

Noah doesn't just share his treats with Judah, he insists that Judah get the bigger part of it "because Judah is bigger than me, mommy."

Noah, though being in very nature like Judah, does not consider equality with Judah something to be grasped. Okay, sorry, that was just me messing with the Bible.

But seriously, it is Noah's extremely high esteem of Judah that also keeps the relationship train running smoothly. He always gives Judah the best seat, figuratively and literally at times, and that really satisfies Judah's need to feel superior to his brother.

Yes they are selfish little monsters. Yes they are greedy little grabbers. Yes they fight and bicker and argue and whine. But somehow it just works...so far...

A Very Short Hike

Last weekend all the stars aligned (weather, work schedules, school schedules, social calendars) and we got to do something we haven't done in TWO years - take a hike in the redwoods.

Sounds simple but, y'all, lemme tell you - I WAS SO EXCITED!!!!

There is nothing. Nothing. NOTHING. I love more than hiking in the redwoods.

Before we had kids we literally did this every single weekend. It was the one time in my week I felt totally and utterly happy. Freaking kids.

Of course I prepared myself for the excursion by way wayyyy wayyyyyyyyy lowering my expectations. I knew what to expect. Whining. Fighting. Complaints of being tired. Thirsty. Hungry. Possibly inconvenient urges to poop or pee. And a very short hike.

All smiles but not for long!

It started off well enough, although there was an early chorus of "I'm bored. This is boring," from Judah. But as we got into it even Judah was bewitched by the quiet majesty of the kings of the forest. We had a great time...for about a whole 20 minutes or so.

Judah pretends to be his favorite animal of the moment - a jaguar!

From that point on, Judah's energy started to flag and he opted to sit in the stroller the rest of the way. And at the 35 minute mark Judah hit his all-time low - even sitting proved too much apparently. Judging from this pic, you'd think he was on the March of Bataan.

Who knew sitting in a stroller was SOOOOOOO HARRRRRRRRRRD?

But it's nothing a little milkshake couldn't fix. We stopped by this awesome little burger joint before heading home and the kids kept exclaiming - What's a milkshake? We've never had a milkshake before! What is it?!?!

This is what drinking happiness looks like.

Way to make us look like weirdos to all the other patrons. Thanks kids!

On Love

Love is patient.

Love is kind.

I'm not very good at being either.

But these two hearts forgive and forget so easily.

I've learned more about love in the last five years than I have in my entire life previously.

And I've felt more love in each single day for the last five years than I ever had previously. (But I can sort of say the same about frustration).

So basically, every day is Valentine's day.

Reason #26,745 why kids are awesome.

The Plan

While I was driving the kids to school this morning I overheard Judah saying this to Noah:

Do you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to get you a baby! Then you can be a big brother too! It's really easy. Just get mommy some candy and make her a nice birthday card. And let them have the sex.

What. The. Heck?

Kindergarteners be crazy yo.

But hearing them eagerly plot another sibling did make me reconsider my current "I'm all done" stance. Actually, for the last few months they will tell me at least once a week how much they really really really want another baby.

Judah plots how to relive this precious sweet moment. It *almost* makes me reconsider...

And then I remembered all the night-time wakings. All the tiny choking hazards (aka, Lego pieces) scattered all over our house. All the bodily aches and pains from lifting, hoisting, holding, wearing, carrying, rocking, a 15-25 pound delicate but squirmy ball of flesh around for the better part of a year. How much I hate nursing. And how the sound of crying makes me lose my mind.

And how I'm about to sell our crib, diaper changing table, and rocking chair on Craigslist because we are now DIAPER FREE!!!!!!! for the first time in 5 years.

Yeah, I'm still done...I think...

The Time When

Often Judah and I will have a big chunk of the day to ourselves because Judah's school has a ton more days off than Noah's preschool.

Our tradition on those days, like this past Monday, is to drop Noah off at preschool and walk to the Starbucks across the street for breakfast.

Happiness is a bagel with cream cheese and just the two of us.

I don't know if it's the pastries or the company that makes Judah so radiantly happy during those times. But he is as happy and content as I've ever seen him then.

"Mommy, can we have a conversation?" he asks.

"Sure."

"Mommy, who do you think is stronger, the blue bionicle or the green bionicle?"

As you can tell, it's not the most scintillating conversation for me, but I love how open his heart is during those moments. If I wanted to instruct him or impress something on him, that would be the time to do it. That day I told him I was cutting down his precious TV time in half (it had ballooned from 1 show a day to 2 shows) and instead of the expected meltdown, he accepted it with equanimity and even grace.

"Okay mommy, I don't want to watch too much TV."

As Judah gets older, I'm realizing that the openness of his heart is what I'm most afraid of losing. He has always loved me with abandon and banishing any sadness or pain was as easy as having huggle snuggles on the couch. Literally, that's all it took.

But will it always be that easy?

Will my love always be enough?

Judging from the surly anger of every teenager that has ever lived, no.

It's a horrible, dreadful, creeping realization that I will recede and other forces - cultural and social - will loom larger.

The boy who occasionally tells me - Mommy, I'm sad I'm not a girl because then I can't ever be a mommy like you - will be no more.

But he will still have my heart forever.

F*ck Hearts

It was bound to happen.

Yesterday Judah said "F*ck you" and showed me the middle-finger.

He learned it from his friend at school and didn't know what it meant.

I proffered a kinda lame explanation but it was the best I could do. I just said it means I really really really really hate you.

And Judah responded, well, then, can I say F*ck you Satan?

Uh...no.

Why?

Uh...your dad can explain it to you.

Later on that day Judah found his old notebook from preschool. He loved his preschool with all his heart and flipped through the pages fondly. But then he started picking off all the hearts he had pasted on the cover as decoration.

When we asked why, he explained that he was drawing a picture in class today and drew lots of hearts on it. A classmate came over and laughed at it and told him hearts are stupid.

Typical Judah drawing - abounding in hearts.

As the mom of a son who has drawn "hearts for love" as soon as he could hold a crayon, I died a little inside.

Thank you kindergarten.

The Humiliation of Me

A few days ago I was at a kid birthday party with a bunch of moms I didn't know and we do what all moms do when trying to think of conversation starters with stranger-moms - talk about kids and motherhood.

It's an instant bond-er.

One mom said, "Having kids is just so...humbling."

And we all groaned in deep resonance.

I may have groaned the loudest.

I used to run at a hundred miles per hour, but now I can barely crawl at 5.

Everything, EVERYTHING, is an ordeal.

Getting out the door requires advanced logistical planning and the patience of Mother Theresa. 

- gotta make sure there are sippy cups, snacks, changes of clothing, backpacks, sunglasses, gum,...and that's not even any of MY own things...no wonder I'm constantly forgetting my wallet at home!

-cajoling, lots of cajoling and countdowns, and gentle to severe prodding, and more cajoling, and sometimes, when I'm really desperate, bribing, of which I am thoroughly not proud

-wrangling socks on feet, jackets on twitchy arms, jumpy feet in shoes...

-and once everyone is out the door, one person announces they have to poop, followed inevitably by the other person's suddenly loosed bowels.

So yeah, it takes about 30 minutes to do what I used to do in literally 30 seconds.

Eating is an ordeal. Snacking is an ordeal. Getting in and out of the car is an ordeal. Going anywhere more than 15 minutes away is an ordeal. And bedtimes. Bedtimes are probably the worst ordeal of all.

Not pictured: the ridiculous amount of wrangling and hair-pulling it took to get this picture.

But the hardest hit area of my life is professional. I had a pedal to the metal, be-all-you-can-be attitude toward academic and professional achievement. It was the cultural norm and I more or less enjoyed it.

And now? Reluctant stay-at-home mom.

I've come to terms with the end of my career as I've known it.

I've let go of all career options that would require more than 30 hours of week of work for the next 15 years.

I've accepted the role as the primary caregiver, which means being relegated to jobs that allow me to pick up my kids at 2:30 pm every day and at noon on a random handful of days.

I could outsource it, but that comes with its own set of problems and pain. Ultimately, I choose to be with them more often than not. And in order to be with them, I have to slow down. In every single aspect of my life.

And not just slow down, it's more like slowwwwwww wayyyyyyyyyy the heck down.

I remember when Judah first started to walk around. I thought it would be great to take a stroll through our neighborhood. It turned out to be one of the most frustrating experiences of my life.

I had not yet realized that for a one year old, walking means meandering in concentric circles, picking up leaves and sticks every 30 seconds, and trying to touch dog poop as much as possible. On our 10 minute walk, we maybe covered 3 feet of path.

But that's what I have to do if I want to be with them. 

Condescend. Lower. Abase. Be humbled.

And it is the most unexpected gift.

Bob Helper Rubble

Dear Noah,

You have officially broken my heart by turning 3 last week. How could you?!

Oh my sweet chunk'o' 12 week old lovin'. I miss you.

You try your best to comfort me by pretending you’re a baby. Asking me to hold you because “I can’t walk mommy” and asking me to spoon feed you because “I’m a baby mommy”. You started doing this so much I worried that you were truly regressing. But then I asked you why you keep acting like a baby and you said “Because you love babies, Mommy. You sad that I’m growing up.”

Oops, my bad.

Didn’t mean to hijack your natural growth and development with my own emotional hang-ups. But aren’t you such a sweet, compassionate, insightful little bear?

For the last few months, you’ve been really into construction stuff. Your favorite show is Bob the Builder or Animal Mechanical and naturally your favorite Paw Patrol character is the construction pup, Rubble. You recently told us: My name not Noah. I Bob Helper Rubble.

Well, nice to meet you, Bob Helper Rubble.

You’ve always been really interested in mechanical movements, even as a baby, which totally explains why you are a puzzle fiend. You frequently take out puzzles on your own and spend long periods piecing them together, taking them apart, and piecing them together again.

And although you worship your older brother, these things are completely unique to you. Judah has never cared for construction related things or doing puzzles, being more of a ninja-superhero kind of guy.

I’m so glad you have your own identity. Your brother is an easy-going rule follower. But you. You are my stubborn one. My jokester. The king of the side-glance. The one who does the exact opposite in order to get a rise out of us. You make my blood boil in frustration like no one else, but you also make me melt into a puddle of I-love-you-goop multiple times a day.

You are a gift I get to open every day. Looking at you thrills me. Tickling and kissing your tummy fills me with joy abandoned. And your knock-knock jokes are truly the best, the logic just attenuated enough that I get it. I get it! And I love it.

Classic Noah Knock-Knock Joke:
Noah: Knock-knock
Me: Who's there?
Noah: Elephant
Me: Elephant who?
Noah: Elephant, I have a long nose!

This Saturday, we broke a tradition that we’ve been doing every Saturday morning for the last 2 years. Usually your brother goes to Chinese class Saturday mornings and you and me go grocery shopping at our favorite place – Trader Joe’s.

You sit in the little red cart and point at the seasonal plants on display. We start going through the produce aisles and you babble about fruit and veggies. You ask me where Cookie Monster is and get distracted looking for him. You want to hold the little plastic bags while I drop items into them. We talk about cheese and turkey and how daddy loves his salsa.

We grab samples and milk and butter and yogurt. You help me check for bad eggs. You get hungry and break into our snacks before we get to the checkout stand. All the old ladies smile at you.

You hand items to the checkout person one by one. You stick TJ stickers all over your face and all over me. We sometimes get help out because one cart just won’t fit all the food we bought.

But this Saturday, I did it all alone. And I’ll probably never do this with you again. Just like that, you turned 3 and were old enough to join your brother at Chinese school.

I missed you my little friend.

And it was hard to read the food labels through my tear-blurred eyes.

Upward and Onward

2016 is only a few weeks old and already it's giving me a giant mental wedgie.

I don't even know what that is, but it kinda sounds like what I feel...disoriented, confused, reeling...

Between Christmas and the middle of January there are no less than 4 major celebrations that all combined together to pack a major wallop this year...

First, Christmas - wow, magical, love, goodwill...

Second, my birthday - wow, I'm old, no, like for real now, seriously this time, FO REALZ...

Third, New Years - ah, a whole new year, carpe annum, what am I doing with my life? goals, I need goals beyond mere survival of my young...

Fourth, Noah's birthday - wow, my youngest is getting big, no more baby, no more babies? hmmm...

Now that Noah's turned 3, and we don't really have any plans to have another baby, I feel like we've finally reached the next "stage" in family life.

I used to fantasize about this stage when Noah was just a few months old.

The long extended trips we could take.
The lack of diapers in the house.
The convenience of everyone eating the same food.
The freedom of not worrying about anybody's napping.
The verbal communication skills that would negate the need to scream like a banshee in my ear.
The big chunks of uninterrupted sleep, ahhhhhhhh.

We're not really there yet, but it's tantalizingly just around the corner...maybe by this Summer even...

2016, I have high hopes for you.

The Deeper Magic From Before the Dawn of Time

Last week Judah told me his classmate believes in magic.

Do we believe in magic Mommy?

Uh, that's a complicated question with some interesting nuances, son.

Of course that's just what I was thinking in my head. And what I was also thinking was it's your bedtime and I don't want to drag it out by getting into a discourse full of interesting nuances...so, short answer - Nope! No, we don't believe in magic.

We don't believe in the tooth fairy, and witches, and wizards, and Santa Claus and all that jazz, I reaffirmed to Judah. BUT, BUT, I warned sternly, many kids do believe in all that so let's not take away their fun by telling them there really is no such thing.

Judah nodded in understanding.

The only problems is, I do believe in magic.

I believe in the kind of magic that makes cold lifeless statues come to life. That makes inanimate stuffed bunnies real. That reaches into the darkest pits of despair and plants a seed so potent, a hundred flowers blossom on it's eventual branches.

I believe in the magic of Love.

And no more do I experience that magic than in the daily, extravagant displays of affection from Judah and Noah. The light in their eyes. The warmth from their smiles. I am their mom and their first true love. I believe that if I love them well, it will set a seal on their hearts and protect them for all time - like the flashing talisman on Harry Potter's brow.

A few days ago, we were getting ready to go upstairs to start the bedtime routine and I started turning off all the lights downstairs. The only lights remaining were from the Christmas tree and (battery-operated) candles on our mantle. How beautiful and magical, I thought to myself. What a sentimental sap I am.

And then I heard Judah's little voice - Mommy, let's sit on the couch and huggle snuggle and enjoy this Christmas magic!

Oh my sweet child. You read my mind. You share my heart.

You know me. I know you.

And I think we both most definitely believe in magic.