"I will love him to the end of his life, and then I will let him go."

I am rarely sentimental. I'm not an overly emotional person. I don't cry often at movies and I don't cry when people die. I have a hard time expressing compassion for other people in horrible situations, like when my neighbor announced he had stomach cancer. I guess you can say I am socially awkward.

But this mom, this story...It took me three attempts to read it all the way through. My throat clogged up with tears and I knew I had to share it.

Lots of people talk about living in the moment with their children and that is what we do; we talk about it. It's easy to get caught up in "oh, I'll do it tomorrow because I really need to get this done for work today."

What if we only had limited tomorrows and knew it? What if we didn't have the luxury of time? Perhaps we can all live by her words today:

Parenting, I’ve come to understand, is about loving my child today. Now. In fact, for any parent, anywhere, that’s all there is.

Maybe we all need to be a bit more like a Dragon Mom. I know I want to be.

Notes from a Dragon Mom

Minimalist Mom Moment

So what happens when you have a blowout diaper in the middle of Lowes when it creeps out both legs of your shorts and up your shirt?

You have a bath in the sink!

And then you leave Lowes in nothing but your clean diaper and your shoes because mommy refuses to carry more than one purse/bag and she didn't have any extra clothes with her.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

It's Saturday, we are running errands, it is hot out and I had packed a sippy cup that leaks from time to time. As I am leaning into the backseat to get him out, I see that he has dropped his sippy cup down in the seat next to him and on top of my jacket. I pick it up and sure enough it had leaked a lot of milk.

Me: Oh..

Ian: Oh crap

Me: .......

Ian: Oh crap.
      Oh crap.

Me: Who says that Ian?

Ian: You do

Well, yes. I guess I do. Oh crap.

Happy Birthday, Baby Boy

(yes, this post is late. is anyone really surprised?)

Ian, you turned 2. How is it that you have been in my life, out of my womb, for that long already?

You grow and change so much each day. You still love biscuits and beans and blueberries and now we can add bacon to that list. Your favorite songs are Baby Bumblebee and Baa-Baa Black Sheep.* You love to take baths but hate to have your hair washed. Just recently you have become such a fan of trucks and trains.

When you were first born you were a carbon copy of your father, and now you are starting to look a little bit like me. Some facial expressions that you make remind me of photos taken when I was about 3 years old.

You never fail to say unexpected things that make me laugh. For your birthday you received a Leap Frog compuer. This, along with the Elmo camera, are your two constant companions right now. The computer says "Hi, Ian" when you turn it on. For a few days you just said "hi" in response. The other day, just after your bath you turned it on. "Hi, Ian" it said to you. "Hi. Mommy just cleaned my booty" you told the computer.

You play more independently now and will often sing or read your books to yourself. Going to bed is easier some nights and you tell us when you are ready to "rock a baby." You want to climb into the car yourself and often flop in like a fish and wiggle until you get where you need to go. Climbing is a favorite activity and you have no fear. I almost forgot --you love slides. We go to the park and you can wear us out.

Though you can severely frustrate me with your terrible twos, I love that I have you. I love wrestling in the floor with you and catching you reading to yourself. I love tickling your belly and making you giggle. I love the earnest expressions you have and that you finally want to walk and hold my hand.

Right now I am still one of your favorite people. I know that as you grow up (so quickly) that will begin to change. I'm going to hold on to your tiny, warm baby self as long as I can.

You will always be my baby boy.
Love,
Mama

*As I re-read this prior to posting I realized the alliteration going on in your life. I wonder what that means.

I Am A Dry Creekbed

I did not hit my son. I did not. But part of me wanted to.

Instead, I yelled. That deep down from the belly guttral emission that is meant to get everyone's attention. And it did. Even Daddy came running.

I don't make a habit of yelling or even grunting at my child. But he is currently making a habit of hitting me. And often. Out of frustration, out of anger, out of confusion, out of the terrible twos. That night I was tired. So tired and I just wanted him to go to bed. To lay down and go to sleep so that I could have a little bit of time to unwind and then go to bed myself. He had other ideas.

Poor baby jumped in my arms as I emitted this strange and primitive sound and then he cried harder. I realize I did myself no favors. I know better. Usually I can remain calm, take a deep breath, walk away even. That night I didn't hit just the wall, I barreled into it full steam, throttle wide open.

I have no excuse.

Would it have really hurt me to go back out to the couch and read with him for 10 minutes? No. Would it have hurt him to go to bed 10 or 15 minutes later? Nope. Worse was that his cry changed. It wasn't the I-don't-want-to-go-to-sleep cry, it became different. I knew it and yet I still hesitated to go into the room because I was angry at him. Daddy went in and found out his foot was stuck between the mattress and the railing. And didn't that make me feel like the bestest bitchy mom of the year?

So many things are a battle right now: getting dressed, having a bath, brushing teeth, getting in the car seat, getting out of the carseat, changing his diaper, sitting in the high chair at a restaurant, not having the exact food he wants, going to bed. I know he is growing and exploring and I try to let him make his own decisions and have a say in what he is doing (as much as an almost 2 year old can) and some days it just wears me out.

Sometimes I don't want to wait for him to be ready to get dressed; I need to get to work.
I want to eat a meal in a resaurant without him on my lap.
I don't want to read the Elmo book 12 times in a row.
I want to cook dinner without worrying I will spill something hot on him because he is under my feet.

Parenting is hard. I know that. I thought that yell would have deflated the balloon that was my frustrating rage. It didn't. My boiling well of ire continued into the next morning and flared when he would not get dressed. This time I walked away. But I'm still sitting here dreading the upcoming battle(s).

One of the best parts of my day is picking him up from daycare and having him come running at me full-tilt, arms open for a hug. I love that part of my day.

Today I am tired. Today I feel like I don't have anything else to give. My river of patience and understanding and committment to alternative parenting is dry. I feel like a dry creekbed, rocks gray and bare to the beating sun. And I have no idea what to do to get the water flowing again.

Adventures in Parenting

Recently my husband decided he needed a new/new-to-him car. Not just any new car, he really wants a Land Rover. Oooh. Aahh. Yeah whatever.

So, I indulge this little fantasy and off we go to the dealership a few weekends ago. Child is up from his nap, snacks loaded in my bag, and we are off.

Originally we go there to look at one specific vehicle; it has been sold but not removed from the website. I tell him to look at a few others I knew he was interested in. I am feeding my child, singing to him, talking with him, all the while keeping him in his carseat thinking we would be leaving rather quickly. Next thing I know, husband is pulling off in a Range Rover for a test drive.

Hello? Fine. So out of the car we both go to enjoy the 78 ish degree day. My son recently learned to enjoy grass, he used to hate the very sight of it and would not step onto it even in shoes. Husband comes back and wants me to review said car he just drove. So while he and the sales guy continue to look at vehicles and I interject pointed questions, I also run around after my child to make sure he does not run down the hill and into traffic.

Sales guy goes inside to get information. By this time I am getting to be a grumpy, sweaty mess and the child isn't really happy either. I ask if we can go inside to get some air conditioning. I get cooler air but continue to run around after the child by myself as husband is in a euphoric coma-like state while surrounded by Land Rover vehicles.

Finally we all decide to go look at a few other vehicles. As my husband and the sales guy turn and head to the door what does my child say:

"Mama. Poo-poo diaper."

And proceeds to flop down onto the dealership floor and roll around while he tells me we need to "clack-clack" (slang in our house for diaper change) rather loudly. Husband and sales guy are more than halfway to the door, two older salesmen are nearby and staring at me and my child rolling around in their fancy dealership floor.

So what do I do...I double over in laughter. What else can I do? When teaching potty training, one must be open to embarassment of any kind.

Oh, and no, husband ultimately did not purchase the Land Rover, or Range Rover...out of price range. (Coulda told you that!!)

Frogs and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

Dear Ian,

You have been a challenge to me this week. Not for anything particular, just in general. Perhaps the stars are out of alignment or the world is tilted wrong on its axis. I guess it happens to all of us now and again.

You are now 18 months old. Your vocabulary is vast and you talk all the time. You are starting to put together short sentences: Where Dada go? Sit down Pawpaw. Dada at home. You comprehend even more than you can say.

One of my favorite things in the world is coming to pick you up at the end of the day. Especially when I walk in the door to your classroom and it takes you several moments to realize I am there. I get to observe you as your own being, separate and apart from me in the world. And then when you see me, you light up and call out Mama, or more recently Mommy, and hurry over for a hug. You know we need to get your cup and your sheet before we can leave.

You aren't ready to potty train but you are getting close. You are becoming very self-aware in this area. I admit that I would love for you to be ready for this but I certainly don't want to rush you. I know that would end in disaster.

I really like that you are finally sitting down with me long enough to actual read a book. You like to sit next to me on the couch and go through the book with me slowly. You even have some of the words down in the pattern to Sandra Boynton's The Barnyard Dance. I can almost say that one perfectly without the book in front of me.

Keep growing and learning, little boy. You teach me so much.

Everything I Really Need To Know About Parenting I Learned From My Cat

My darling son, at 17 months, is in the I WANT TO GET MY WAY stage. He says "no" a lot but not always meaning no. A yes no sounds different than a no no.

Occassionally he has decided that the proper method for expressing his displeasure is to push his sippy cup onto its side or to throw down onto the floor whatever he has in his hands. Every now and again he will even plop himself down onto the floor and throw himself backwards. That has resulted in a few bruises when it happened on tile and not on the carpet. Lesson learned.

Now he is taking it one step farther. He will now reach out and try and slap or scratch me. Not fun. I sternly tell him no, to stop and that what he is doing is not nice. When this doesn't work, I make sure to stand up and make it a point to move very far away from him. He is not going to get to play with mommy if he slaps.

I don't know about you, but sometimes being a parent means you are tired. You have repeated the same song, the same book and the same game more times than you can count. All you want is a little quiet and then your child decides to act out.

So one evening I am sitting on the floor playing with Ian when he decides he doesn't like something I did or said and decides to slap at me. I tell him no. Then he proceeds to try and bite me, with his whole 4 teeth. Not thinking, I reached out and popped him on the head while saying "no". Just like a mother cat would do to her kitten. Just like I have done to teach my cats not to bite.

I think I was just as surprised as he was. We both just looked at each other and blinked a few times. At least it worked.

So the next time you aren't sure what to do with your child, remember the things you have learned from your pets.