I've tried so hard to make this blog mainly about Kade and his cuteness
and his ever present bump on his forehead and his stories, but I
always feel slightly guilty when I only do a post about him, as if a
part of me is still thinking, “There’s nothing more to my life
than being the Momma?” It sounds selfish even to think it, but
those other things; my novel, horses, dogs, books; help keep me sane
and gives me patience, so I can read the same three Clifford the Big
Red dog books night after night after night. (Side story: I started
reading Redwall last night, because I can barely remember my Aunt Sue
reading those books to me every night, and it’s a memory I cherish.
The little blonde one wasn't pleased until I picked up one of his
current favorites, “One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish.”)
But I've decided that the only way I'm going to keep up with this blog, more than just once every few months, is to give myself free rein to actually write about life; Kade, horses, dogs, my failed attempts at cooking, my stumbling attempts to plan a garden to feed us, whatever I need to. There will still be pictures, now that I've gotten better about taking them, and I've realized I can use the auto post feature to write or just post pictures. Technology, ya'll.
I
am not the Pinterest inspired mom I want to be. I have only fairly
decent writing, but no physically craftsy or artsy bones in my body.
I didn't take an old dresser and re-purpose it to a play kitchen for
Kade; I hunted Craigslist until I found a deal on a plastic Fisher
Price one. I didn't hand sew aprons for us; I’m hunting those
down at Goodwill and the like. Except for one really nice piece of
art on my walls and the nicest of the college leftovers, the walls of
my house remain bare white. Only one curtain is actually on a curtain
rod. I only put my nice metal bed frame together a month ago (my
parents got it for me over five months ago).
I
get so wrapped up in the ways I’m not a cool or crafty or inventive
mom, and I forget that my overly emotional, storytelling, mud loving
boy is growing up just fine. I never thought I’d be the bragging
kind of mom, but with Kade it’s hard not to. I feel like the
picture of the otter mom, holding up her pup, with the caption “I
made dis!” However, Kade is polite, he chatters at everyone in the
grocery store, flirts shamelessly with check out people, demands in
that way so weirdly familiar to me to help me pay the bill. He’s
happy when he’s not tired, always willing to jump in and play or
try out something new. Besides his near mystical need to become one
with every single puddle that exists, Kade’s greatest toddler
ambition is to be useful. He helps wash dishes, put away laundry,
carries bags, and dresses himself (although putting away his toys at
night requires prompting still).
He
has his tantrums, his low moments and his frustrations (mainly when
he’s tired), but he can work himself through them…mostly. This is
fortunate, because my emotions are still pretty locked down. Kade’s
are not. He shares them with the world at full volume, demanding you
fix it. I shove things down and tend to ignore them until someone
really confronts me. I've gotten better, mainly because I still
remember being forced to journal two pages every single day during my
middle and high school years. I keep the journals on the bookcase in
my bedroom, in case I forget to “get in touch with my emotional
side” every now and then.
Kade doesn't have that issue. I know what he feels, what he thinks, and
what he’s doing almost 24/7. I still haven’t quite gotten used
to knowing another person quite this extensively; not only do I hear
Kade’s surfeit of words (60% of which I don’t understand but I agree to anyway) I’m
also willingly dragged into whatever he is doing. When we go to the
park, I don’t sit reading for long; soon enough I’m chasing him
around the playground, playing hide and go seek and monster and
dinosaurs and keep away. At night when I’m not cooking we’re
racing cars, throwing toys for the dog, racing around the house
playing catch me if you can tickle games he’s making up. I have
learned that it’s not fair if I hide too well; if he can’t find
me in five seconds, he gets worried that I've really disappeared.
Our
new nightly ritual includes me reading a book to him in his reading
tent, the dog trying to shove her way into my lap. I read the book,
then Kade grabs it and declares, “I read to you now Mommy!” His
storytelling has gotten better and more accurate the longer we do
this. It started with him being really general in what happened, “The
boat is on the water!” and now he can tell me the Grinch’s heart
grew two sizes that day.
To be true, the best thing in my life right now is that he is so close to being mostly potty trained! So close I can almost, almost stop spending ridiculous amounts of money on pull ups. He took a major step at the PNER convention yesterday when he used a public toilet for the first time. If I could have showered the kid in rainbows and puppies I would have, but I handed him chocolate and huge praise instead. In the beginning I took a bit of a laissez-faire approach to the potty, but in the last few weeks I've kicked into high gear, and it's working. I have introduced such words as "big boys" and "cleanliness" to my potty related vocabulary, mainly along the lines of, "Big boys are nice and clean and use the potty!" usually in a sing song, Effie Trinket happy voice. I've also introduced bribes. Go potty, get a chocolate. Fingers crossed I don't jinx it, but aside from one accident at school last week, he came home in the underwear I put him in that morning. The fact that soon, so soon, I won't have to pack a huge bag full of wipes and pull-ups, but just keeping a few in my purse for accidents, is dizzying with possibilities. I'm not in a hurry for my sweet Rumpus to grow up...but being pretty much potty trained is my current giant cake in the sky!
It will be this good when he's mostly potty trained, I know it!