Cuteness intermission

I have to learn to stop making blogging goals, because I never keep them up. To make up for my lack of cute Wild Rumpus pictures, enjoy the following update:

I had a parent-teacher conference with Kade's head teacher last week, and she raved about how much better he is doing, now that we are pretty settled into our routine.  He's a lot more confident and willing, and they don't call him Linus anymore-he only needs his blankie at nap time. He's right on track, development wise-he's learning to draw; his motor skills are good; and he loves to look at picture books. His favorite ones are those with pictures of trains and trucks, and he goes wild every time we see a MAX train or a freight train around town. 

I know when I drop him off each day that he's going to have a full day of fun, playing, running around, getting cuddles, and general havoc wrecking. When I arrive to pick him up, he runs up to me calling, "Mamammama!" After he gives me a kiss, he runs to all of his teachers and gives them a high five. The only thing he really doesn't like about daycare is being the last one picked up. I was running really late one day, and when I got there he was crying in his teacher's arms. So I arrange my schedule so I never pick him up later than five, so he's not the last one there. 

Every day before bed, usually after bath time, I tickle all his sensitive spots-bottom of his feet, thighs, belly, and neck folds. We wrestle on his bed or on the couch, while he shrieks and giggles and I try not to get my glasses broken by 27 pounds of thrashing wild rumpus. This is  a highlight of my day, and can make a horrible day all worth it.  I can never help but join in his laughter, because he's just so freakin' cute, this kid. 

Good Sidekick!

On the not so golden side of the ledger, The Wild Rumpus has started taking a stand against BEDTIME. Just when you thought election season was over, Kaeden has elected to hate bedtime or the mention of bedtime. I know he takes naps fine at daycare, but as soon as I start or even mention bathtime, brushing teeth, PJs, or bed, the not good kind of shrieking begins. His bedtime is set at 830. By then he's bathed, teeth brushed, PJs on, stories read, and lights out. 

Rainy Day Hike

Instead of curling up quietly with his blankie and his warm soft Mommy, he arches his back and throws himself on the ground, howling like a banshee. The first few times he did it, I was afraid I hadn't fed him enough (now I leave some crackers in his room each night) or he wanted water (I leave a full bottle of water in there too) or else I hadn't adhered faithfully to the bedtime routine (sometimes I skip the bath and just wipe him down when I'm really tired and he passes the sniff test). 

Waving

Nope, none of that is the issue. Bedtime has broken my toddler. He has not gone quietly to those little slices of death for over a week now. I can pretty safely say, the terrible twos are descending, in bits and pieces. 

But his cute, happy, beautiful Wild Rumpus times makes up for the terrible, no good, horrible times. I know I've said this before, but just being able to get off my late shift, creep into our room and kneel beside his bed and breathe in his clean little boy hair and whisper, "I love you, you are beautiful and a joy and loved, so loved" is what keeps me going, what helps me sleep at night. We are better off, us two together this way. I can pursue my career, I have my friends and horses to ride and a novel to write; Kaeden is surrounded by people that love him, by kids his own age, and cared for by a mother who is no longer exhausted, or heartbroken, or guilty. 

I love you, Kaeden.