Dear Jack,

Today you are 30 months old. Two and a half years! Wow.

You're wonderful in a million ways, but the last month has tried me more than any other. Several times lately you have run away from me, sprinting once into a parking lot and twice across large stores, out of my sight. Each time you did this, I felt desperate. I knew I couldn't get to you immediately, and it terrified me. I know that I have to learn that I can't keep you safe at all times, but you're still too young to understand some of the basic boundaries for survival. Please, please, please, son - stay by my side a little bit longer. You throw tantrums of protest that are new for us. You insist on climbing into your carseat with no help, for instance, or passionately refuse a diaper change. You throw your weight around or kick at me. When I ask you to do something, you most often say "No." So you're two. I get it. But being your mom these days is exhausting.

I can see you learning (and many times, failing) to process your emotions. You speak so well that I think it's not so much that you can't communicate, but that you have difficulty accepting that you are not always the one who decides. Many days, it takes everything I have to parent you peacefully. Even then I falter. You're intense, and trying to match that intensity never works. I have to calm myself down so I can teach you to do the same.

This is how I do it:

When you're shrieking, I think of you singing "How much is that spider in my milkshake? (splash splash)" or my personal favorite, "I'm a GI-ANT in the WO-ORLD! I rescue everybody in the world!"

When you tell me NO, NO, NO, I think of you sitting at the breakfast table and saying, "Mommy, I'm just waiting for my oatmeal to come true." Or when you saw the Christmas tree lit up for the first time and gasped, "Oh Mommy, it's magical! I yuv it!"

When you scowl at me, I think of all the cute things you've said this month, like "That's fantas-kit!" and "I'm so be-cited (excited)," or wishing Gram a "Happy Birthgiving" on turkey day. Or, I ask you to wink. You can wink now! It's really stinkin' cute.

Any time I feel like I can't take it anymore, I think of you hugging me at bedtime, and saying in a sleepy voice, "I'm so good you love me. I mean, I'm so GLAD you love me."

I'm glad you are who you are, and I'm so glad I get help you grow up. It's hard and it takes everything right now.

You're worth it.

Love,
Mama