13 months and running
Posted on | March 17, 2006 | 12 Comments
Dear Bean,
Today was one of those days I’d prefer, mostly, to forget. You started screaming practically the minute you woke up this morning—after sitting bolt upright and immediately pointing to, and fiercely wanting, every off-limit item on my night stand (a glass of water, a pen, nail clippers). You wailed your way through getting dressed, howled shrilly when I put you down, and proceeded all day to become a wet mess of tears any time something did not go your way.
It didn’t help that today of all days our landlord decided to have the insulation in the apartment re-done—without telling us. For hours (all morning and most of the afternoon) we listened to the sound of insulation being blown into the walls, pumped through feet of wide corrugated tubing by a very loud air compressor. Hours of drilling, of metal ladders being put up and then taken down. You ran from window to window, pointing and yelling, interested in all the commotion until it was well past your regular nap time—but the noise kept you from sleep.
When they left in the afternoon, the two of us were quite grumpy at each other but grateful for a soft bed, and so we curled up together like a set of measuring spoons and slept until 5p.m.
Not every day is like this. Though you HAVE begun throwing what appear to be tantrums: your legs turn to jello. You wail. You fall to the floor. It is really very dramatic. And you’d think that perhaps I’m torturing you, or maybe, at the very least, that I’m cruel and unkind and am preventing you from a happy childhood because I won’t let you try and figure out how the outlet covers come off, or how to turn the knobs on my easel (it WILL FALL! I Promise.)
Most days however, you are a delight. You love spaghetti, the baby sitter, swings, and taking the tops off of chapstick and pens. You bring us books to read—and use our fingers to point to stuff that you like on the page. You point at everything. And you hug and nuzzle us when you’ve missed us (even if we’ve only been gone five minutes.)
Your sudden explosion in receptive language has left me floored. You understand so much now. You can follow simple directions and know the names for many things you love: book, shoes, swing, breakfast, milk, nap.
Yet I can see how the gap between receptive language and expressive language has you frustrated—and I’m sorry when I can’t figure out or anticipate from your wild “uh-uhing” and pointing what it is EXACTLY that you want. It is also wildly frustrating to you every time you come up against a boundary. Trust me kiddo, it’s wildly frustrating for me to0—especially after you do it again, and again, to see JUST EXACTLY WHERE THAT LINE IS THAT YOU CAN’T CROSS.
You are already so different this month, than last month. Last month you were a brand new one year old. Now you’re a pro at this whole toddler bit. You run—everywhere. You run away from Bella, your little girlfriend, with HER sippy cup in your hand. You play chasing games with us, and with the cats. You want to run with the big kids at the park. You want to be just like them, and I’m not sure if my heart can grow fast enough to take this. Yet I know I’ll adjust—and you’ll help me. Now when we go for walks you reach up to take my hand, as if to say, “this is the way mama!”
How I love you!
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12 Responses to “13 months and running”
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I am Christina Rosalie
Hello. I'm so happy you've stopped by!
I am a multimedia storyteller, digital strategist, idea starter, stalker of wonder, finder of four leaf clovers, MFA graduate student, and mama of boys. My first book,
will be published by SKIRT! Books in September, 2012.
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March 17th, 2006 @ 1:52 am
He has to be one of the most adorable little guys out there — tantrums and all. That’s too bad your landlords decided to work on your place without letting you know in advance — another perk about owning (and living in) your own home, which, I’m sure you’re VERY excited to get moved into. By the way, the house is going to be absolutely stellar. I’m so jealous of the country-side, the peace and quiet and nature right out your door. It our plan to move in that direction someday — but I loathe the idea of a commute, so it will have to wait until I win the lottery or my sweetie makes enough money building boats to support the two of us! Okay, I ramble. It’s late and I should really be in bed.
Happy 13 months, Bean!
March 17th, 2006 @ 2:33 am
Oh, days like this. We’ve had a bundle of them lately where nothing seems to go just right and communication woes have you turning in circles. But then they do something amazing (like miss you after just five minutes) and you feel like the scent of their little damp head as you pull them in during sleep is enough to root you to this one spot for the rest of your life. This has to be the craziest job in the planet.
And lucky 13 to the fantastic little bean. I can’t wait to meet you!
March 17th, 2006 @ 3:34 am
all the cute balances out all the screaming at least, and in Bean’s case, it MORE than compensates, I’m sure
God, they grow SO FAST!
March 17th, 2006 @ 7:16 am
Oh I do remember when….When he is out running around the world. You will wish you had this day to do All over again.
Love reading your blog. Thanks for Sharing.
Shawnnita
Queensland, Australia
March 17th, 2006 @ 7:37 am
Isn’t it incredible and amazing? They are delicious at this age. Everything is a wonderment and it’s such a gift to experience it with your own babe. I get wistful as I read about your son. With my girl turning 5 in 2 weeks I get so sad that I don’t have a wee one anymore but I do get a thrill reading about yours. I love the bottom photo with the cheesing grin!
March 17th, 2006 @ 12:09 pm
Christina,
I have been checking in on your blog for the past week or two and just wanted to tell you how much I enjoy it and draw inspiration from your writing and painting. Your letters to your son are so touching and strengthen my anticipation of the day when I will be blessed with a child of my own. Thank you!
March 17th, 2006 @ 12:22 pm
i have only recently found your blog and i love it. your letters to bean are exactly what i want to say to my 10 1/2 mth old, but i lack the poetry that you so greatly possess. they are little blessings, aren’t they? oh i could cry! (in my defense i am trying to wean my child off the breast and am very hormonal). thanks again.
March 17th, 2006 @ 12:55 pm
Clicking through the Flickr photos, I found myself thinking, “I just can’t help but love the Bean”. I love these monthly updates, and you know, you’ve got a babysitter in me. All the way across the country, which is so helpful, but he’s just such a love. Thanks for sharing all these insights into his ever-expanding life!
March 17th, 2006 @ 1:57 pm
ahhhh…
sweetness at its best.
March 17th, 2006 @ 2:55 pm
What a great letter– the honesty of where he’s at right now will be such a gift to him later and it must be a release for you, too to be able to share the truth of the frustrations in the midst of all the beauty and joy that he is.
March 17th, 2006 @ 3:40 pm
sounds like he’s starting to gear up for the terrible two’s… brace yourself, mom, it’s a crazy ride
no matter if he’s happy or grumpy, he’s still total cuteness!!
March 20th, 2006 @ 5:58 pm
Those apple cheeks are to die for!
a.