Most the time, I remember that Kaeden is a toddler (or a wobbler) and I refer to him that way, "My toddler son" "Kaeden the toddler" etc. But often I still use "babyman" or "Chubblywubblybabycheeks" (yes, yes, I have become that mom in my worst moments).
I saw a picture, just a random stock photo really, of a toddler, sitting on the potty, doing his business. It hit me hard in a way I wasn't expecting that within a year, Kaeden will be that kid. Instead of diapers there will be pull ups, and I'll have to pull his potty out from wherever it is currently languishing and actually start using (and cleaning) it. In a year he'll be talking at me instead of a string of babbling.
He is learning words at a ferocious rate, both understanding and speaking them. Every day he grabs his favorite book at some point-a garage sale find, a large cardboard book with random labelled pictures-bird, truck, dog, crib, etc, and he'll sit on my lap with the book open and point at the pictures, and I'll give him the word, repeating it every time he points. In two days, he's already learned to say and recognize a ball and a truck, although it sounds more like "Ba-ba-all!" and "uk!". He follows our foster dog, Maggie the boxer, around pointing at her and saying "gog? pet gog? pet puppup?" which he also does to every dog he sees. Most of his communication still consists of strings of absolutely adorable, completely incomprehensible babbling, sometimes going for minutes at at time without pause, accompanied by pointed gestures-want, up, no no, and random killer hugs.
Killer hugs because they stop my heart with their cuteness and love and complete randomness. Kade can be tearing around the house at a dead run, dancing to the latest Flo Rida song, stuffing his face with cheese (a current favorite food), and then suddenly throwing himself at my back or into my lap and burying his face in my neck, making his little "mmmm" sound when he hugs, then back to whatever chaos he was causing. He does this to anyone in his vicinity-Tristan and the dog, of course, but also my best friend, the elderly people at the retirement home across from the post office, the neighborhood children, the check out lady at the store. The kid is as free with hugs as my mom is stingy with them-he seems to either believe he has this great bounty to share with the world, a huge basket full of cute and love, or it's a great way to get out of being told he can't have the camera/cell phone/computer mouse/knife.
Every night, Tristan or I read him a different story or chapter from a book (This week is Beverly Cleary's "Strider"), sitting in the recliner in his room next to his crib after his bath, wrapped in a blanket with the fan on in his dark room, thumb in his mouth. This can be the highlight of my day, sweet clean smelling strawberry blonde head right under mine, reading quietly, listening to his breathing even out, his heartbeat slow from the excitement of the day, warm and close and my baby, my son, my impossibly cute toddler, my Kaeden.
Of course it's one of my favorites because he's quiet and not wiggling out of my lap to go find some mischief or some way to hurt himself. He's not chasing the dog with his little lawnmower, he's not smearing black berries all over his face (his new favorite food), he's not climbing up on Tristan's desk and banging on the printer, or screaming like I've ripped his heart out because I set him on the floor so I could get something done. This stage of utter and complete neediness, and completely uncontrolled emotions, was one I was not ready for at all. I'm blindsided by it. You mean I can't go pee without a snot covered face staring at me (snot covered because I had to set him down/stop playing with him for 15 seconds)? I can't eat off of my own plate, drink out of my own cup, in privacy, without a warm little body wedging himself between my knees, mouth open like a bird, begging to eat exactly what I'm eating? It does not matter that the exact same thing is on his plate, or if he saw me actually take a piece from my plate and put it on his. Nope, if it doesn't come from Momo's hand, he doesn't want it. Other times, he just doesn't want it being fed to him, he wants to eat it off his own plate with his own fork, he doesn't want any help.
Every day I'm amazed to find what new thing he's come up with or can do now. A few days ago we discovered he can now climb out of his crib at will, so it's time to change the crib to a toddler bed (keep in mind we've had the crib barely over a month). He can also climb up on our desks in the office if we turn our backs for a crucial five seconds, and he knows and can get up into his car seat from the ground, even up into the Suzuki-we have a little monkey on our hands. . He climbs off of things by going flat on his belly and wiggling until his feet touch something. He tried this trick to try to squirm off his changing table the other day (I have a changing table now, this makes my back so much happier!!!!), and I know he thinks about trying it whenever we visit a playground. This makes my heart take up permanent lodgings in my throat, because some of those playgrounds and just so darn high, higher than I can reach-so my choices are to follow him up there, try to keep him away (haha) or chew on my heart until he comes back down.
That said, I'm more rough and tumble and apparently, not nearly as sympathetic to scrapes, bumps, or trips as the other mothers. I was at the really cute, nicely fenced in, brand new park about a quarter mile from our place a few days ago, speaking with a woman and her mother in law while watching her son, who was about 6 months older than Kaeden, and Kaeden run amook while Maggie laid at my feet in the bark and sighed. Kaeden went down the slide not very successfully-he did this weird roll thing and slid halfway down on his head and bumped it against the side of the slide. Since there were no immediate blood gushing or brains falling out or white bone poking through, I wasn't going to react. The other lady, without even glancing at me, swooped in and made a huge deal over it, asking if he was okay and setting him upright and soothing him so he wouldn't cry-even though my little trooper looked like the last thing on his mind was to cry.
I really don't want a kid who can't play rough and tumble and get back up and keep going. I see so many pampered kids at these parks I take Kaeden to, whose parents make a huge deal out of every little scrape or scratch, kids who cry at the drop of a leaf. Unless there is brain matter falling out his ears or blood gushing, I watch Kaeden's reaction instead of rushing over to soothe him. 9 times out of 10, he's not fazed and pops up and keeps on motoring, completely undeterred. Sometimes I can see immediately that a fall or a trip (usually one that lands him on his face) was NOT OKAY and I can get to him before the pain really hits and stem it off, or just reassure him that it's not the end of the world and talk him out of a huge breakdown.
I wish I could freeze him in this stage-yeah he's overwhelmingly needy, but the cuteness more than makes up for it. I'm scared, in a vague way, of him growing up, of what the next stages will bring. I just got used to this stage, with is constant surprises, it's beauty, it's loudness and neediness and tears and snot encrusted face and unpredictable moments of quiet and laughter.
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