He's 2...Already!

My baby...he's 2. 2 years old. 24 months old. My itty bitty Peanut has turned into my adorable, independent and booming Isaac Boo. How did this happen?!

We took him to Chuck E Cheese on Tuesday, since my husband was off work. He had so much fun. I notice all the differences in him...how much he was growing. He was obsessed with the tokens or "money" like he called them. He kept dumping them out and counting them. Now, he can only count to 20, so he would then count backwards to 1 again and start over. Great fun.

 We celebrate with pizza. And big boy cups. That we may or may not still call "babas."

He rode the Bob the Builder forklift. He is an avid fan of driving. So when the ride actually started moving he was very excited.

Still a huge fan of slides too. He puts his arms up over his head and squeals "weeeeeeeeeeee!"

He is also a climber. And while Ben was playing skee ball, Isaac decided that he would climb up onto the game. And then run between skee ball alleys. He also liked to take the actual ball and just throw it into the holes. Which some strange kid told us was clearly cheating. He's 2, kid. And he misses half the time and the ball rolls back to us anyway.

 Again with the driving.....

Yesterday, I took him to a cupcakery to pick out a treat for his birthday. He chose a huge cookie as big as his head. And he ate almost the whole thing. I don't blame him, it was a damn good cookie. That's my boy! 

He's 2. I am having a hard time wrapping my mind around that. That this time last year, he wasn't even walking. That this time 2 years ago, I was holding a bitty baby in the hospital staring in awe at this tiny human we had created.

I still stare in awe. I love the person he is becoming. He's so happy. He is so full of life and so much personality. I see so much of myself in him, his fearless curiousity. His stubborn streak. His sense of humor and trying to make everyone laugh.

I love that smile. :) Happy birthday, Isaac Boo!

The P Word

Potty training. Ah, potty training. Where to begin? When to begin?

About a year ago, I wrote about how Isaac was learning he actually had bladder and bowel movements. Since then some progress has been made. Or so I hear. Apparently there have been occassions that Isaac has asked to go potty and then done his business on the big boy potty. He does not do this for me, so I like to think that people are making this up. I mean, I am his MOTHER. I am really the only person he needs to worry about impressing at this point. He should have figured out by now that MOMMY is the one with all the power in the house. And that the little girls at daycare aren't impressed by controlled pottying. They might be, but I don't think so.

Anyway, Isaac still sits on his potty for about 2 seconds before he gets in the bath. However, he has figured out that he just gets in the bath alot quicker if pees in his diaper beforehand. He knows what his potty is for.

He started pooping in the bath. It's gross. Nuff said. It tramatized him because when he did it, I FREAKED OUT ON HIM. I mean, he wasn't sick. Because that I understand. He intentionally pooped in the bath. So when he did it again, he was scared and started crying immediately. This time I don't really know if it was on purpose or accident. Can you ever really poop on accident if you aren't sick? Let's not answer that.

So anyhoo, Isaac totally understand the feeling of these bodily functions. He tells me all the time when he goes potty, and if he's really uncomfy, he asks me to change his diaper. He knows how to pull his pants up and down (Note: this is not a new skill). He knows how to wipe and flush a toilet. He knows how to climb up on his step stool and wash his hands. He gets it. And his daycare has the cutest mini toilet I have ever seen. It's like a shrinky dink toilet.

But....

I have no idea how to really, actively start potty training. I think he is almost ready. But I don't want to push him and somehow scar him into using diaper until age 5. We talk about it.

And then, on Saturday I got so help. A clear message was sent.

We were at the park, Isaac running around and playing. All of a sudden he made the poo-poo face. He ran into the corner of a play house. He came out a few minutes later and goes "mama, poo poo." I asked him if he wanted to go to the car and change his diaper. He said no. I asked if he was uncomfy. He said no. I figured it would not hurt to let him play some more. He ran into another play structure shortly after. A few minutes later, I hear "eww....who farted?!" the bigger kids (and by big i mean 3-5 year olds) continued to debated on where the smell was coming from. They figured out it was Isaac. He emerged, clearly embarassed, and came up to me. "Mama, diaper. Go bye bye now. All done poo -poo."

So we left. But with that little extra push, I think we will be seeing some active potty training in our near future.

10 Years

This week was a rough one. I have struggled with whether or not I wanted to write about it, to even think about it. Now here I sit on Friday, with the week coming to a close, no closer to absolution.

10 years ago, I lost someone. Someone who meant a great deal to me. 10 years ago, my friend Patrick took his own life and sent mine into a spiral. It was 10 years ago. Sometimes that amount of time just doesn't seem possible. It seems like it was just yesterday. I planned a full day on Tuesday. And tried to ignore the other days. 10 years.

I will remember that week forever. I will remember the argument. I will remember the tears, the fear, the emptiness. I will remember the disbelief. All those feelings, so many feelings, most of which I never knew were possible. I remember the anger, so much anger. So many tears. The guilt. Oh. My. God, the GUILT.

So many phone calls. I was mad. That day, all I wanted to do was sleep and cry. And I had to spend it telling people. I will absolutely never, never forget the moment that I had to tell his best friend at school. No one should have to do that. The look on his face. That made me the most angry. I was mad because because of his decision, I had to be the one that hurt his best friend. I know I wasn't the one, but I was the messanger. That was wrong. I was mad.

I remember the long drive to the funeral. I remember how my wonderful friends pulled together for me, and showed me support. I remember turning up my headphones in the back seat and pretending that we weren't driving to a funeral home.

So many explanations. I felt like I needed to have a statement to hand out to everyone. Or at least signs. My friends sheilded me. They ran interference.

After the first viewing, I stayed behind. I stayed so I could have a minute, just me and him. I remember looking down at him, wanting to punch him in the face for the hurt, for the guilt, for the person he made me into in a split second. I wanted to hug him. More than anything, I just wanted to shake him and wake him up.

I remember him. I remember his voice, his eyes, his laugh. I catch glimpses of him in different ways. Sometimes, it just slams into me like a mack truck out of the blue. It leaves me breathless and like I have been suckered punched in the gut.  I see things that I know he would appreciate. It's like an endless black pit. Last night it hit me so hard I had to sit down. I just sat and cried. Isaac crawled into my lap and wiped away a tear with his little hand. He let me cry.

How are you supposed to be after 10 years? What are you still allowed to talk about? What kinds of feelings are acceptable? Where should you be? What's acceptable? It seems so taboo, like you have a timeline for grief. I know people would never tell me that. At the same time, I don't know how healing it is for others to see me broken. It was a ripple effect. My husband for example. I know it makes him uncomfortable for many reasons. Foremost that for 5 minutes 10 years ago, there was someone else in my life that meant something to me. That that person hurt me and that as my husband he can't make it better. Sometimes the silence is better.

10 years later, there are still no answers. Can you ever really get over something when you don't know what it was in the first place? The pain is still there. There is still no absolution. But there has come peace. Acceptance. And resolution that I will not be broken anymore. I am more than that week, than that person he made me into.

10 years later, I still miss Patrick.

Wordless Wednesday

OCD

I am a firm believer that everyone has some form of OCD in some way or another. Everyone has little things that absolutely have to be a certain way, or it drives them nuts. I have a few, to say the least.

***I am a chronic handwasher. Seriously. When I am getting ready for work or whatnot in the morning, I wash my hands about 25 times. I can literally FEEL stuff on them. Leftover hair serum. Toothpaste. Eyeshadow. Dust from the cornflakes and cheerios. It's bad. My chronic handwashing leads to very dry hands, and consequently I always have lotion with me. However, if there is too much lotion on  my hands, guess what? Yep, back to the sink.

***I checked that all our doors and windows are locked about 20 million times before I leave the house or go to bed. Not only the actual door is locked, but the screen doors are locked as well (only at nightime). I will check them before I go change into my pjs. Again after. Again after I brush my teeth. Again after I check on Isaac. Sometimes I will even get out of bed to check them again, because I know I had to unlock the doors to check the locks on the screen doors. I know, I am SICK.

***This last one is the kicker. The one that drives even me NUTSO. I don't stress over things or events. Like, big tests, meetings, etc. I know how to prepare for said events, and I do so. But I also know that there is only so much I can do and that stressing over them doesn't help. The KICKER is this: then I stress that I am not stressed out about it. Um, true story. I stress about not being stressed over something. HOW DO I FIX THAT?!

Anyway, hopefully you don't find me certifiable. And hopefuly, my son does not inherit these wonderful, um..."quirks."

Faux Fries, Real Time Messes

Like any red-blooded American child, Isaac loves the wonderful greasy goodness of French Fries. He asks for them ALL. THE. TIME. Every meal. Every snack. Random times throughout the day. LOVES THE FRIES.

Anyhoo, we all realize (hopefully) that fries are not the healthiest snack for a budding 2 year old or anyone for that matter. We indulge him every now and then, his father more so than I do. While on a shopping trip to Costco, I found a big bag of Veggie Straws on sale. Isaac has tried these before and liked them so I got him some for snacks and such. And it was Costco, so I got like, a bajillion pounds for $2. Or something.

Upon arrival home, I gave him some with his lunch. He was delighted, and he immediately exclaimed:

"FRIIIIIIIES!!!!!"

My son thinks these veggie straws are fries, and I am going with it. :) However, these is another obsession that must be discussed as well.

*******************

Isaac is too  big for his highchair. I am not really sure what the cutoff age for a high chair is, but I am guessing we are passed it or coming close to it. His feet hang below the foot ledge and I am pretty sure he could tip it over if he tried hard enough. Sigh.

I am reluctant to replace baby things with big boy things, even though I know that it needs to be done. It's because I have a huge pile of baby items: clothes, bottles, furniture, blankies, swings... in my basement. I refuse to get rid of ANY of it. Not only because it would be a HUGE waste of money when we have another child and have to rebuy all of it, but because it means my baby isn't my baby anymore. He's growing up, and thriving, just like he should be. Don't get me wrong, I am so happy and proud of him. And he will always be my baby. But it makes my uterus ache. I don't know when we will be having another baby, so the more stuff I put down there just makes me feel further and further away from a baby.

ANYHOO, his highchair is the next thing that will be making the pile larger. Which forces me to figure out his eating situation. Our table has this wierd border thing along the bottom of the eating surface that prevents the use of any type of booster without cutting off circulation in Isaac's legs. He eats at a small table at daycare so I figured I would just find one for him. This is what we ended up with:

The most important thing to note in this picture is that all of Isaac's food is all over the table. That is how he prefers to eat. I give him bowls, plates, etc. That stuff next to the spoon? OATMEAL. I guess it tastes better that way. What you cannot see is the bowl on the floor and miscellaneous clumps of oatmeal that were deemed unsuitable.

Also to note: I did not give him that much corn chex to start with. I gave him a small handful. HOWEVER, in addition to only wanting to eat things straight off the table, he can only eat select bits of food that he has taken from the entire available amount. Meaning: he needs to have the entire box/bag on the table with him.

I went to the bathroom and came back to the above scenario. Getting him to stay at the table was an issue at first, now, not so much. I pick my battles with my son. And having him throw a full blown screaming fit because he wants to eat directly from the box is one I usually let him win. I mean, it just isn't worth it.

However, this may need to be reconsidered. Especially when a huge bag of "fries" is involved:

Yes, that is the entire Costco size bag all over his table. My husband sent me this photo on Monday (Note his phone takes way better photos than mine does).

Sigh.

This happened the next day:

Those are Teddy Grahams.

The brighter side to this situation is that it provides an excellant platform to teach Isaac how to clean up his messes.

Take away points:
Isaac loves the faux fries, which I in turn love.
Isaac loves to eat at his table, which I in turn love.
Isaac likes to dump out ALL his food, mmmm I am indifferent.
Isaac likes to have possession of the entire receptacle from which his food is taken.....combined with the above....

Mommy needs a drink. :)

Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad...Monkey?

Isaac is a pretty fearless kid. Not many things shake him up. He is very curious and inquisitive, which I love about him. When he was a smaller baby, the sound of a trash bag being shook open scared him. He would cry and look terrified by the loud noise, so we would only change the trash while he was sleeping or not in the house. Since then, he has also expressed a bit of dislike toward the loud noises of the vacuum and dustbuster, but can tolerate them as long as he watches me sweep (which isn't often thanks to our hardwood floors). He has overcome his fear of trashbags and now actually laughs when he sees the big bag flap open.

Now he has a new fear: that monkey who watches the security screens in Toy Story 3.

He isn't just disturbed by the monkey. He is actually afraid of it.

He got the movie for Christmas and he has watched it several times. On Saturday, we curled up on my bed after his bath (which is another story). He hadn't taken a nap that day, so he was pretty tired. He was ready for bed around the time the monkey comes into the movie (I won't spoil the movie for anyone and say more than that), and he didn't cry or say anything. When we put him into his bed, he layed down and said "all done monkey?" We told him yes.

He woke up yesterday morning and asked the same thing. He got the same answer. He asked the question several times mores throughout the day. I seriously believed he was asking about the monkey in a Mickey Mouse episode we had watched on Saturday as well. He is OBSESSED with Mickey and in order to appease him as to why we don't watch an episode on repeat, I often tell him that the characters are sleeping. So I figured this was what he was talking about. Before his nap we curled up on my bed again to finish up the movie. I restarted it right when the monkey comes on.

HE SCREAMED and jumped into my lap. Tears followed. "NO MONKEY! ALL DONE MONKEY! ALL GONE! ALL GONE MONKEY!"

Needless to say, we switched to Mickey Mouse very quickly.

Again, when I put him into his bed for naptime, he asked the same question: "all done monkey?" I assured him the monkey was gone and he went to sleep. I was cleaning up the bathroom about an hour later when I heard him shriek in fear and start crying and screaming for me. I ran into his room, half expecting a kidnapper or something.

He was standing up in his crib, crying and immediately reach for me said through his tears "all done, monkey, all gone. All done?"

DAMN MONKEY! I am pretty sure he had a nightmare that involved the effing thing.

I calmed him down. Assured him that the monkey was not real and could not hurt him. I explained that the monkey wasn't a bad monkey, just a toy.  He asked many more times throughout the day, including right before bedtime. My husband told me this morning that he asked the same question as soon as he woke up.

I mean, the monkey is pretty scary looking. Seriously, who makes a toy like that?

But...we will keep watching the movie. I don't want him to be scared of this monkey, so I may fast forward through those parts. Any suggestions on how to conquer this fear?

30 Days of Truth: Day 6

Day 6: Something you hope you never have to do.

Wow, a polar opposite from yesterday. I am afraid to write this post. I feel like it's tempting fate. I don't even want to think about what I hope I never have to do. There are many things I hope I never have to do.

So....hmmm.

Ok, I hope I never have to fire anyone. I don't like to be the bad guy. I definately do NOT like to be the bearer of bad news.

And that is all I am going to say on that. It's true. And this is about truth.

30 Days of Truth: Day 5

Day 5: Something you hope to do in your life.

I have always wanted to get my PhD. I love science. I mean, I big red fat puffy heart science. I was born to be a research scientist. I love forming new ideas. I love collecting data and go over and over and over it until my eyes are blurry, just to figure out what it all means.

After my finishing up my Master's degree, I was burn out. I was so tired of the administrative side of school. All I wanted to do was science. I love taking new science classes. I love the discipline. But I was so tired and just done for the moment. I wanted to get married and move to the next chapter of my life, a chapter that did not involve school.

Now...now, I am aching to get back into a lab, into a library, into a classroom. I am ready to take on this goal fully and wholeheartedly. It's who I am, what I am meant to do.

I have other goals, other things that I want to accomplish. I want another child. I want to buy a house. I want to go shark diving. I want to ride in a hot air balloon. I want to travel, go back to Europe. I want to see a blue whale.

The goals I have..I know some of them aren't meant to come true, but they give me much to work toward, to dream about. And one that I hope I achieve is earning my PhD, and I am working very had to make the goal more and more a reality each day.

Wordless Wednesday

Full Steam Ahead

He is fealess. But it's nice to know that he looks over his shoulder to make sure Mommy and Daddy are still there. 

Attachment

As we are racing two the 2 year birthday, Isaac has hit a MAJOR mommy attachment phase, one I thought we might bypass. None such luck.

And it's a pretty bad attachment. I saw it starting before Christmas, right when he got sick. We pretty much camped out on my bed and watched "Mickey's Twice Upon a Christmas" and napped for 3 days straight. He got a bit anxious and whiney when I would get up to get food, a refill on his drink (or mine for that matter), or to go to the bathroom. If my phone wasn't in the room with me, forget it, most likely I wasn't answering calls (which I didn't anyway). I attributed this to being sick. I mean, everyone wants their mommy when they don't feel good right?

Well, then he got better. But the attachment got worse. It's gotten to the point where I can't be more than 2 feet away from him, if that. And that is a generous estimate.

Let me clarify. When he is at daycare, he's fine. When he is with his dad, fine. When I am around, not fine. Seriously, it gets ugly and really fast. Most times, he wants to be ON me. On my lap, on my hip, doesn't matter. He wants me to hold him and carry him around. Now the list of things I can do one-handed since having a child is quite extensive and impressive. However, this list grew when Isaac was itty bitty, NOT pushing 30lbs and wasn't so tall...meaning...he's cumbersome to lug around after 2 minutes. If I don't pick him up, he screams. Like throws himself onto the floor and SCREAMS.

I don't give in all the time. I know it's not good for him, and I know (PRAY) that he will outgrow this and soonish. If I am on the couch, he has to sit on my lap or right next to me. If I am in the kitchen, he's in the kitchen. If I am in the bathroom, yep...he's in the bathroom. The other night when Ben was home, I just wanted 2 minutes of peace and I went in the bathroom and shut the door. Within seconds of realizing that I was no longer in the same room as him, Isaac raced to to closed door and began screaming for me. He pounded on the door, and wouldn't let Ben pick him up. Upon coming out, I found a snot-dripping, red faced, tear streaked little boy. Another night, I was literally walking around my (give it large-mongous) bed to put clothes away in the closet and he FREAKED because again, more than 2 feet away.

Sooooo....any suggestions on how I can hurry this phase along? I won't lie, sometimes it is nice. Like the other night when we were watching Toy Story 3 and he cuddled up next to me. But those times when I just can't get  him, and I have to walk into another room? Those are the times I need advice.

A Break From Shopping

Auntie Gail took this picture on her new fancy smancy iPod touch, and I LOOOOVVVVEEEE it. :) After a bit of shopping we took Isaac up to the fabulous Women's Lounge at Nordstrom's to left him run around like a crazy fool for a bit. There is a GIANT mirror on one wall and Isaac was fascinated by his full reflection. He may have even um, licked the mirror. Sigh.

Resolute

Ah, the start of a new year. A new year that people enter into with resolutions to change their lives, to change themselves. It's time to bid adieu to 2010 and ring in the new year with resolutions.

I really don't make resolutions. I never ever keep them and being the type A personality that I am, I hate fialing at anything. That's what I feel like resolutions do for me, make me feel like a failure. Let's face it no one likes feeling that way. This is just the way I feel. If you can make resolutions and keep them, high five! Seriously. :)

What I do is take time to reflect on the year that is coming to a close. I look at what I accomplished and the happy moments that I shared with loved ones. I look at where I was at the beginning of the year and where I am to close it out. If there is something that I don't like about that year, something about myself, yes I set goals to change it. Maybe those are resolutions. But I don't think so because I don't really set myself to accomplish them in that year. They are just things about my life that I want to change, in general. I believe there is a difference. Again, that might just be me.

I am making a resolution this year. What am I resolving this year is to be happy no matter what happens. That might seem hokey, but I believe that it is the right one to make. We are in for some major changes in 2011, and I want to go into them with optimism and hope. To me, that is half the battle. We are starting this year off in California, but hopefully will not be ending it the same. That itself is a major change, and will involve many sacrifices but all for the better. No one likes change, myself include. In fact, it can downright terrify me, especially when we are happy and stable in our lives. But I, and my husband, believe that although we are happy, there is a life for us that we can be happier in. And that life is not in California. We have a wonderful life and are truly blessed and grateful. We are proud of what we have accomplished.

This new year is starting a new chapter our lives that we are excited about. We are hoping that everything plays out as we want, and that by this time next year I will be able to write that I kept my resolution, that I embraced 2011 with happiness and that I am truly happier than I could have predicted.

Here's to 2011! :)