Two is not terrible

Witten turned two today, and you know what? I'm okay with that. I've been referring to him as two the entire month of June, and with good reason. He acts like a two year old. That can be a good thing, and a bad thing. But mostly, I love two. Two year olds are so much more reasonable than one year olds. They can tell you what they want, they can sort of be bribed or reasoned with. They are just so fun.

Witten kind of amazes me with how big he is already. He talks. SO MUCH. He will basically say any word you tell him to say, but he also has this amazing vocabulary for a two year old. Like, complete sentences. He loves to go outside, and he tells me five times a day I go outside and swim in it (he is talking about the pool obviously). He loves playing with the girls, and talks about how funny they are. Lana and Ava (which he pronounces Ah-va) funny. He loves to watch Peppa Pig because for some reason my kids love that show, and he recently decided that we should also watch Finding Nemo every. day. The whole movie he is basically obsessed with Marlin, and he repeats Nemo Dad constantly in case any of us have forgotten who that clown fish is.

My boy is a little carbaholic. He will eat crackers all day. I don't buy chips because A) they make crumbs and B) they are nasty and my kids will eat them all in one sitting. So my compromise is box after box of Wheat Thins and Ritz Bits and Cheez-Its and Goldfish. At this point I need to buy these products at Costco, because just buying the family size box only gets me so far. I cannot even fathom feeding him when he is bigger, especially a teenager, because judging by the amount of mashed potatoes he can fit into his skinny little body right now I'm going to need to double the amount of food I cook at every meal.

I don't know what kind of big brother Witten will be, but he seems to have grown fond of my growing belly. He hugs it and lays his head on it, and loves to just put his hand on my belly when he is laying by me and going to sleep at night. He is loving in a way I didn't know before having a boy. Maybe part of that is that one minute he is wild and yelling and throwing tuna cans on my bare feet, and the next he wants me to pick him up and he lays his head on my shoulder and I remember why I keep him around.

I love this guy, he is equal parts rowdy and calm, loud and quiet, sweet and spicy. He is smart one minute, naming all of his body parts, and the next he is intentionally dumb, jumping off of the couch and hurting himself. That is something about boys I will never understand. He makes life interesting, and I don't know what I would do without his crazy personality to keep me entertained. I guess you could say I love him, I guess I will keep him. Plus he really likes to help unload the dishwasher and who wouldn't keep a guy that does that?

Baby Your Baby

I miss this guy. I know, technically he didn't go anywhere. But really, he did. This baby, who peacefully slept on my chest and amazed me with his beautiful lips, he has been gone for a long time. In his place is a wild hooligan who jumps on my bed like its a trampoline and forces everyone to share whatever they are eating with him because he thinks he is starving.

Can you mourn someone who is still here? Because of how much they have grown-up and changed? I don't know if its acceptable, but its something I do. Last night he was restless before bed, and even though I want him to always go to sleep on his own, I picked him up. He had exhausted himself from crying, and as soon as I picked him up he relaxed against me. I laid him against my chest and sat down in his room, rocking him till he fell asleep and staring at his face. I cannot remember how long it has been since he slept on my chest like that, he usually tries to get away if I hug him too tight. I don't remember what it felt like when he was small. Holding a sleeping baby on your chest is literally the best thing in the world, and it should be savored because it is a fleeting moment in time. SAVOR IT PEOPLE, I'M SERIOUS.

If I look really tired in this photo, its because I am. 

I want Witten to be my last baby. Physically and emotionally, I just don't want to do it again. Its a crazy rollercoaster and I cannot get on it and give it my all, I've run out of stamina. Not that I don't like being pregnant, because I do. Not that I don't love having a newborn, because I do. But I cannot do it again. You put your body through so much, and at the end it is worth it, but its hard. I spend the first weeks postpartum with a sense of impending sadness, like the clock is ticking and the odds aren't in my favor. You only get so many minutes in life of snuggling a sweet newborn on your chest before you run out of time. You only get to watch someone take their first steps once. You only get so long before they go off to kindergarten and leave you.

This is my baby now. He is not the same guy he was when he was born. He is tall and skinny, independent and headstrong. He climbs onto the table, he steals cookies from me, he only gives me kisses if I bribe him with a Skittle. He is sweet and crazy, and can cause trouble effortlessly. He is my toddler, he is my wild little man.

The passing of my baby years are bittersweet. There is a small part of me that can look forward to when all of my kids are big enough that we can all go to the movies and not have to wrangle Witten for half of the time. Someday we can all go to Disneyland and I won't have to wait with a baby while everyone else goes on Splash Mountain. Someday they will all be big, someday they will all sit through a meal at a restaurant without trying to get up from the table to play peek-a-boo. Those things will be okay I guess, but they won't be newborn-baby-sleeping-on-your-chest good. Not even close.

Milestones: 18 Months

In December (the day after Christmas actually) my dude turned 18 months. Yeah. It was awhile ago. Not much has changed since then, so we'll just pretend not much has changed and carry on like he is still 18 months.

He's only a serious guy when I tell him to smile for a picture. The rest of the time he is wild, crazy, loud, and happy. He enjoys climbing onto things, like the dining room table, the couch, the beds, and then trying to jump off of them. He loves playing with cars, balls, Mickey Mouse toys, and all of the little Avengers action figure guys he got for Christmas. Each toy has a designated sound effect to go with it, and I'm fairly sure that he was born with the knowledge of how to make car and explosion noises. He likes to get two action figures, carry them to David, then make them fight each other. I don't get this game, because I'm a girl. His dance moves are pretty spectacular too, and he will literally dance to any song that comes on the radio. Sometimes its just a slow head nod, but sometimes he gets his hips in on the action and then becomes an unstoppable dancing machine. 

Witten talks so much more at this age then either of the girls did. He says mama, and dad-dad, and he yells AVA!!! really loud in a deep voice, which is hilarious. He also says ball, of course, and randomly repeats strings of sounds and syllables that we say to him, which sound a lot like real words. He is not shy about letting me know if he wants something, and since he is the baby he usually gets whatever he wants. Most of the time its Skittles, he is easy to please. 

Boys are the strangest combination of sweetness and wild that I've ever seen. One minute he is hugging or kissing me, in exchange for a Skittle, and the next minute he is running across the couch and growling at Ava. He is unpredictable at best. 

His craziness scares his sisters, they run from him screaming because he has masterfully weaponized Barbie dolls. He thinks their screaming is funny, so he continues to chase them. 

As he inches towards two I am happy and sad. Sad because he is my baby, probably my last. He is tall and skinny, only weighing in at 22 pounds at 19 months, and every day those chubby cheeks disappear a little bit more. His legs are long and covered in bruises from his rough-and-tumble lifestyle, his hands are covered in dirt, and his hair is messy almost all the time. He is a boy. 100%. The fading baby gives me only a small bit of comfort, for we all know that one year olds are tiny terrorists. Terrible twos? I beg to differ. Terrible ones are far more accurate. He throws potatoes at people (mostly me), smears Cheetos on the walls, and rams his cars into the front door. Not quite terrible, but he's a handful.

Even at his wildest, brattiest, most defiant moments, I would not trade him for anything. When people tell you that boys are different than girls, they are not lying. He is different down to his very core. He loves playing in the dirt, does not even begin to learn from his mistakes (like falling off the couch), and he is just so physical. A hug from him always involves running, and it is a tight hug like no other. Witten is like a baby daredevil, and every day I contemplate putting a helmet on him. But then he does something wild, cries, and runs to me for a hug.

I don't know what it will be like when he is older. He is brave and tough, but sweet and loving and smart. He makes so many "bad" decisions, like running face first into the wall, and that I can only attribute to his boy-ness. He is wild, but he's my wild. He keeps me laughing, definitely keeps me on my toes watching out for flying potatoes being hurled at me, and he reminds me of his potential to do crazy stuff. One and a half is a lot of work, a lot of tears, a lot of laughs, and a lot of dirt. So much dirt. So very very much dirt. Underneath it all is a sweet and crazy boy, and he is worth all of the mess.

The Stairs of Doom

Every single day of my life he tries to give me a heart attack by climbing up the porch stairs. I'm pretty sure he needs a helmet just to wear while he walks around anyway, then add in concrete stairs and a one year old who tries to precariously climb them, and you have me about to have a panic attack. Please stop dude, you are too crazy.

Nap: Interrupted

This is what he was doing today when he should have been napping. Standing, yelling, biting his bed, and rebelling against sleep. He is a rebel without a cause, and now he's asleep in his carseat because he isn't as grown up as he thinks he is.

Conservative Cake Smasher

On Witten's birthday (which was like a month ago, I need to get my crap together and post stuff earlier) I made him his own little cake to eat and well, smash. When I set him down on the floor he was intrigued, but turns out my boy doesn't care to just dive into a cake. The whole time he just took small little tidbits of the cake, at the most he got one tiny handful. When he was finished he wasn't really even dirty, he just had a few crumbs on him and a little frosting. He looked cute though, so I'm fine with cleaning up less cake.

A Monster of a First Birthday

I'm posting two days in a row! I know right?!! And this time its once again something that happened like a month ago, I'm so on top of things! So then, onto something that happened a month ago, Witten's birthday party.

I don't really like to get too into a theme, it can be overwhelming. I don't need every food that we serve to somehow fit perfectly into a category that goes with a perfect thing, why can't we just have sandwiches right? So that's what we did. We had a monster birthday party, but really just the invites and cake were monsters, everything else was just primary colored decorations and 3-foot subs from Eegee's.

We invited everyone, cause you only turn one once, and everyone showed up. It was a full house in our little house, thank goodness for air conditioning. Thanks to everybody who came and brought gifts and helped us eat 9-feet of subs!

My dude mostly just hung out, conservatively smashed his cupcake, then distractedly helped us open his presents because he wanted to play with everything that was unwrapped and Hey guys, open up this truck it looks awesome who cares about everything else! He got many toys on wheels and sports themed toys and manly stuff because he's a man and that's what he likes. His room now looks like a parking garage there are so many cars and things on wheels in it. Many vroom, vrooms have been heard in there since his party, he is a driving maniac.

While his actual birthday made me sad, I was too distracted when it came time for his party because I have to cut up this fruit and make some vinaigrette and frost a green cake, no time for feelings! There was cupcakes and presents and friends and family to divert my attention from the grown-up state of my baby. I'd call it a success, pretty good for my last first birthday party.

Its physically impossible to not look stupid when opening presents. Its just science.

Happy birthday my Witten boy! You may be a wild man, but I love you lots!

Milestones: 12 Months (Only Like 1 Month Late!!!)

Well, Witten turned one like a month ago but whatever. I didn't forget, I just didn't want to write about and/or acknowledge it because I hate it. As you can see from the above pictures, onesie pictures got gradually worse, or Witten got less cooperative. He basically taunted me by acting like he was going to dive head first out of the chair the whole time I was trying to take his picture, while smiling and laughing maniacally. Then, when I finally got him to sit down and quit being all Kamikaze baby on me, he refused to smile. Sat there all poker faced. He didn't smile again till I put him on the floor and let him pull off his onesie sticker. Little stinker.

So, he is one. And he is a crazy person. He can walk, now featuring pivoting, standing still, and almost running. When he gets tired he runs into a lot of stuff, mostly headfirst. He needs a helmet for his day-to-day life, this kid always has some sort of bruise or bump on his head. He has also recently learned to drink out of a straw, but he spits out half of whatever he just drank which I don't understand, maybe he's trying to cool off. Most of his skill practicing goes to walking though, he's a walking maniac.

Witten weighs 20 lbs 7 oz, so he's pretty average sized. He is kind of just long and skinny, he's really not very big except for a couple of modest thigh rolls that are pretty average. He still wears mostly 9 months clothes, but I put a lot of 12 months on him because that's what I bought him for this summer. The shorts all fit him okay, but I have to fold the waist band over so they aren't like capri pants and they stay up. He recently got his first pair of baby Nikes, but when we put them on him he won't walk or go anywhere. I'm thinking of putting them on him to prevent him from getting into stuff. Then I can keep the garbage can in a normal place and not on top of a table. 

My dude's baby vocabulary is pretty repetitive. His favorite words are dad-dad because he's a daddy's boy and....dinga. I don't know what dinga is supposed to be, but he says it all the time. Its like Shalom or Aloha, it has multiple meanings. He walks around saying dinga dinga, all serious, so to him it means something, just not to the rest of the world. He also says mom-mom, but he saves it for when he's tired or crying, then he comes crawling back to me. The rest of the time he's all dad-dad, until he's crying.

The most serious thing in Witten's life is playing, especially with cars. He pushes cars around all the time, then takes a break and throws a couple of balls at stuff. He is all business with his toys, having fun should be done as much as possible, and he does it whenever he feels like it. The only other thing he takes that seriously is causing trouble. If there is something to be gotten into, he will find it. I don't even use the computer that often if he is awake because he comes over and bangs on the keyboard. I've deleted several extra letters and apostrophes from this post that were caused by him, he's very into typing. I had to take the knobs off of the cupboard where I keep the laptop and modem because he kept getting into it. Other top things on his list to get into: the garbage, kitchen cupboards and drawers (that's why I keep all cleaning products above the dryer), the DVDs, any bookshelves, and all of the girl's toys. He's a wild one, and he can make a mess before you can get over to him to attempt to stop him.

This boy is full of personality, slightly devilish, and slightly sweet. He likes to get up really early, and then lay on my lap for like 30 minutes because he's still tired. He still tries to fight off naps, so about 5 minutes after I lay him down I have to go in and check on him because he is asleep sitting up, all in the name of fighting sleep. He has been to the movies with us a couple times lately, and he was riveted at the giant screen, dancing along to Despicable Me 2, until he just couldn't handle the excitement anymore and passed out. And dancing, that is his specialty. He's got the music in him. He dances to everything, even if you just sing a made-up song to him, he will sway back and forth and dance. Its pretty much my favorite. Then he will look over at me and smile all goofy, and I just want to squish him up. One year olds are crazy.

People always say that two is terrible, but I disagree, at least two year olds can talk and you can sort of reason with them. One year olds are wild hooligans who should be regarded with caution, they might bite you or break out into dance yelling Dinga! This boy intends to live up to the terrible-ness of one, and so far he is exceeding expectations. Good thing he's so cute to make up for it.

One Year of Witten

The Shortest Years of My Life

There is surely a space/time paradox involved with childhood, especially that first year of babyhood. One day you are pregnant, then the next day they are already turning one, walking around, getting into things, being wild hooligan children. Time is cruel. I hate it.

I get all weepy when my kids turn a new age, as if I didn't just have an entire year to prepare myself for this moment. The problem with that is that I just spent the year adjusting to the age they just turned. I'll just be coming to terms with 2, then BAM!, they're 3. I cannot imagine how I'll feel when they are grown, I don't even like thinking about it.

When I had Alana I can't remember any real disbelief at how fast she grew. Truth is, I wanted her to be bigger, do more things. That was so naive of me. But still, before I knew it, she was one.

When I had Ava I realized just how quickly my first baby had grown up. Suddenly Alana seemed huge, and I got a reality check about how fast the last two years had gone. Ava's first year was gone in a moment, and before I knew it I was on here whining about Ava's birthday. Now she is 3, going on 13, and its hard to believe she used to be a small and shy baby girl.

Now that I'm on my third (and possibly final) kid, you would think I was more prepared for his first birthday. Not that I'm unprepared, I have party stuff and we bought him a present on wheels cause this dude loves him some cars and he is wearing big boy clothes more than onesies. Its that I'M NOT READY TO LET GO OF BABYHOOD. Can you hear me on that one? I can't handle how fast my boy has grown up. Witten is my little guy, he is sweet and cuddly, but one year olds are monsters and I'm not ready for that stage yet. Ready or not though, he is one and he is a monster. A cute, lovable monster, but a monster.