LizaWasHere

Dear Noah,

On Sunday, you were 3 years and 3 days old.

This has been a rough month, too. Two weeks ago, I had to leave unexpectedly, with baby Josie. Your Great-Grandpapa has been sick for a very long time, but he got much worse, and we knew that he would probably die within a few weeks at the longest. In fact, Josie and I got there the day before he died.

You met Great-Grandpapa when you were about the same age that Josie is; I’m glad that you both were able to meet him. But I am sorry that I had to change plans so quickly, leaving during the day while you were at school.

While I was out of town, This Mommy’s job told her that she needed to travel to Texas for 4 weeks, starting a few days after Josie and I got back from Florida. So no sooner did I get back, than This Mommy left. Both of us hate being apart from you for so long, and we think you hate it too.

This month, you have been having more and more fun with Josie than ever before. You love to hug her, tickle her, and tell her that she can’t play with your cars. Yesterday you sobbed when, after you declared that your chicken nuggets were full of yucky things, I fed part of one to Josie. (Then I ate the rest of them. The alleged yucky things were bits of cheddar cheese.)

You’ve also become simultaneously more independent, and more committed to your claim of “I can’t!” You sometimes insist on pouring your own cereal or milk, choosing your own clothing, or removing your own shoes and socks. In the next moment, or the next day, you are equally likely to insist that you can’t take off your own shirt, brush your own teeth, or put on your own shoes.

At the end of one of your most frustrating recent bedtime tantrums, I told you that you could not come out of your room, and I would not go into your room, until you put on your own pajamas. Five minutes or so later, you sobbed that you couldn’t do it, and when I opened the door, you’d managed to get both of your legs into the arms of the pjs, and you were stuck.

I didn’t laugh, but I told you I was proud of you for trying so hard, and I helped you out and back into the pjs. You’d calmed down and were ready for us to have a nice bedtime story reading.

I’m beginning to suspect that things will improve in the fall when you move up to the Big Kids School. Surrounded as you are by mostly smaller children, who are mostly less verbal than you are, you mimic their way of talking and behaving. When you are surrounded by bigger kids who can do things that you are less skilled at, I think you’ll blossom again. (Your time spent with Freddy and Andy makes me just sure of it; in just a few hours on Sunday, your fear of dogs was dramatically reduced with the help of their peer pressure.)

Well, my sweet boy, I think that’s all I have to say this month. I love you.

love,

That Mommy

Dear Noah,

Today you are 3 years old!

It seems so strange to think of it. Three years ago right now, This Mommy and I were hanging out in a hospital room, wondering when you would decide to come out of my belly and join us in the world. We couldn’t wait to meet you! Instead, we were stuck waiting and watching Wedding Crashers and Must Love Dogs on DVD, hoping that I would get into active labor soon! It had already been 29 hours since my water broke!

You were unsure about coming out — maybe exhibiting the earliest signs of the shyness you still show around strange adults. (Maybe you were waiting for our favorite midwife, who had just come back on duty, replacing our least favorite one who had been there during the night.) In fact, 35 hours after my water broke, the midwife and doctor went in to get you.

Back then, you were a big healthy baby, 9 lbs, 7 oz, and 21.5 inches long. You were a great eater, and a great cuddler, but you didn’t do much else.

Now you are a big healthy boy, 38 lbs, and 38 inches tall, and it seems like you never stop moving and talking. There is almost nothing you can’t do!

You love to run, jump, bounce, dance, throw, and climb. In certain moods, you also love to help your mommies, and to snuggle, read, draw, and play pretend. In the last few days, we’ve been pretend dinosaurs, gorillas, race car drivers, and you’ve been a pretend baby — both with baby Josie, and pretending that she is your big sister.

There is nothing in the family of “race car” toys that you don’t love. You spend hours lining them up, racing them around, and conducting elaborate games among the “race cars” and the “slowpokes.”

You’ve also become immensely competitive. You like to go first, be the leader, go the fastest, and most of all, to win. It doesn’t matter whether the activity is running or racing cars, or brushing your teeth, eating breakfast, or getting in the car. Sometimes the only way to spur you into an activity you would prefer not to do, like brushing your teeth, is to threaten to do it faster/better/farther.

We also love to watch you in action as a big brother. You love to kiss and hug “Miss Goo” and to hand her toys. When she cries, you always tell her sweetly, “It’s ok, baby Josie, it’s ok,” or you echo my, “I know, sweetheart, I know.” You advise us on what she wants and how to help her, and you often ask if you can play with her. (Usually yes, unless she is either eating or sleeping.)

Josie, in turn, loves to watch you and talk to you. She laughs and babbles when you pay attention to her and let her touch your face and hair.

You still have your challenging moments, getting angry and either hitting or kicking, or even head-butting. Sometimes you engage in passive resistance, curling up in a ball and insisting that you don’t want to do whatever we’re doing or go wherever we’re going.

But no matter whether you are being charming, sweet, and helpful, or stubborn, cranky, and screaming, we love you more than we could ever have imagined. You are and will always be my favorite boy in the whole wide world.

I love you.

That Mommy

Dear Noah,

Today you are 2 years and 7 months old. You continue to surprise and delight your mommies — and sometimes to frustrate us and make us wonder if we were crazy to have a second child. But mostly the first.

You love to sing, dance, and “rock out” with your musical instrument toys, especially the guitar, harmonicas, and accordion. I think you like the last two especially because they are loud!

You also love to read, and sometimes insist that instead of me or This Mommy reading to you at bedtime, you read your own book and we read a different one of your books.

You’ve been sweet and charming with Baby Josie so far — you like to play with the toys that dangle above her changing table while we change her diaper, and to gently touch her and whisper “tickle tickle.” You light up when she looks at you and announce, “Mommy! Baby Josie looking at me!” You also tell everyone you meet that you are a Big Brother. We couldn’t be more proud of you.

It obviously isn’t always easy for you, though. When she cries or fusses, you join right in with her. You’ve gotten a little more aggressive at day care, so we talk a lot about not hitting or biting. Or headbutting. And you haven’t slept very well since she and I came home from the hospital.

I think that it’s helped having each of your Grandmas’ visit this month, and doing some extra adventures with This Mommy. But I look forward to being more physically recovered so that you and I can do some special activities together too. I missed you while I was in the hospital, and I still miss our having special time together.

Even though there’s a new member of our family who needs a lot of attention right now, know that we love you more than ever. Having more people in our family to love doesn’t make everyone’s share smaller — it makes the love exponentially bigger.

love, love, and more love,

That Mommy

Dear Noah,

Yesterday, you turned 2 years and 4 months old. On the same day, your cousin Maxim celebrated his first birthday. The two of you haven’t met yet, but you will.

The last month has been rough on you. You left Miss Heather’s home day care and started at “school” at our church. In a somewhat unlucky wave of timing, your slot opened up a week before the church school began its annual classroom transition. So you had a good 1.5 weeks in Mrs. Betty’s class, another sorta-good 1.5 weeks partially with Mrs. Betty and partially in your class for the next year, and most recently, a few days fully in your class with Mrs. Louise and Mrs. Shirley.

I think you’re going to like it, but you are SICK of dealing with change. A lot of mornings in the last 2 weeks, you’ve cried, insisted that it wasn’t actually morning and you weren’t going to leave your room, and asked me to stay with you and not go to work. You’ve also stepped up the arguing and yelling at us, especially at transitional moments during the day (time to go upstairs or downstairs, time to leave the house, time to get in or out of the bath or bed).

We feel really good about your new school. Both the Director and the Curriculum Manager have stopped me to tell me about checking in on you, how you were doing, and in one case, what they did that helped you feel better. (Playing golf, oddly enough.)

In the first class, several of your teachers commented on how verbal you are. In the new class, they’ve already enlisted our help in discouraging your newfound passion for throwing toys that are clearly not toys meant to be thrown. In both cases, I feel like they’re paying attention to you, and that your interests and development are important to them.

We’re going to try to keep your schedule as calm and routine as possible this summer, except for one 4-day trip to Milwaukee for a wedding and time to spend with Grandma & Grandpa, and some of our other friends and family there.

We hope you will feel comfortable and secure in your new environment, with your new friends and teachers, well before your baby sister arrives.

Your mommies love you, Noah. Never doubt it for a moment.

love,

That Mommy