Guest Post for 22 months - Daddy Love

Dear Jack,

This letter is actually coming from your dad. I’ve wanted to write you a letter for quite some time now, but I really enjoy reading what your mother writes about you on a monthly basis. Let’s see...what has changed over the last month?

1. You are getting a lot taller. I watched you run into the kitchen counter the other day. That is crazy for me since less than a month ago, you could just run right under it without any issues.
2. You and I are hanging out a lot on the weekends now. One of the things we did over this past weekend was lie down on the garage floor. We would do this and you’d say “It’s cold!!”
3. You really like the Ghostbusters theme song. I downloaded a game demo on the PS3 the other day and this is the theme song. I’ve now listened to this song about 100 times over the past few weeks. I guess it’s better than having to continue to let you watch Motorhead on television.
4. You just walked up to me and said “Mine!” I don’t know where you learned this word, but I’m going to assume it’s from your mother.
5. I really like to walk with you through the neighborhood. You’ll point out different types of machinery and say “Tractor!” no matter what it is that you’re pointing at.

As I type this letter, you are sitting on the floor in the living room looking through a book. I have your mother to thank for that one. She reads to you every day while I’m at work and I can really tell the difference. I think this is going to pay dividends for you down the road when you are in high school and attempting to pick which academic scholarship you’re going to accept. I don’t mind what school you choose as long as it’s not South Carolina. Hehehe.

It’s been a real joy to watch you get this big. I’m looking forward to the months and years to come. I love you more than anything in the world. Sometimes you might think I’m being too hard on you, but just know that I’ll always be there for you and that you are my little man. Love you, buddy...

Daddy

Dear Jack,

Today you are 21 months old. This morning you announced to me "Mommy, I got in chair!" after you climbed onto your seat. Indeed you did! I think this sums up the past month. You've started speaking longer and longer sentences and very craftily climbing to higher and higher places with ease.

You're so expressive these days. At the beginning of this month, you started saying "I yike it!" about your dad's t-shirts or your books. You learned to say "Gee-yup" as you gallop through the house. About a plate of chili (and many things since) you said "It's yummy! It's deshishus!" You've said it about mud and grass and sticks, too. When I tried to put you in your car seat on a sunny day, you angrily shouted "I no want dry-bing!" You sweetly hold your favorite stuffed animal and say "Don't cwy baby monkey." When we were out on the back deck a week ago, you told me "Shhh...Owl is sweepy." I can't believe you remembered me telling you that owls sleep during the day.


The piece de resistance, however, happened on February 24th (a day I'll remember forever), when you sweetly hugged me and said "I yuv you. I yuv you Mommy." Over and over again. Ah! You've continued showering me with yuv since then, and now you say "I yuv you too, Mommy." You finally shared the love with your slightly miffed Daddy a couple of days later, and made Miss Elaine's day by telling her the same. You yuv your friend Monkey Monkey, too. I am so pleased that you can give and receive love! This will make life so rich for you. Make sure you keep telling the people you love just how you feel.

Last weekend, our dear friends brought you a belated Christmas gift: your very own swing! Our small backyard can't hold much more, and the Pruitts built you a frame with a single swing. It's perfect! You stand at the back door and ask to "fwing" all day long. What a gift.


I've had some physical setbacks over the last month and I've had to imagine (all too realistically) sitting on the sidelines during your childhood. I know I'll always be there to cheer you, but how? Where will I be? I try to tell myself that it doesn't matter where exactly I am if you know I'm there with you. If you can feel how much I love you. I want to believe it and I know that later on, I'll look back and know it's true. But for now I feel a little sad. Uncertain. I'm not giving up and I won't, but these thoughts are new and I have to process them. As you get older, you become more independent (at least physically), and soon I won't need to be right in the middle of things with you. I will miss it, though, either way--if I'm forced to sit things out, or when you outgrow me. I have SO enjoyed running, jumping, skipping, wrestling, and dancing with you. I will keep enjoying it as long as I can. I hope you can remember a mom who played with you all the time.

We'll figure it out together. I love you so much, sweet boy.

Mama

p.s. You are gross.

Dear Jack, my little Wonder,

Today you are 20 months old. You're taking one of your much-appreciated and long overdue extended naps. You're averaging an hour and half. You've even slept over two hours a couple of times. For my sleep-fighting catnapper, this is a welcome development. You need this rest. You wake up like daddy, though, a little grouchy and put out. As soon as you're fully awake, though, the show begins. You're so observant and now you're mimicking not only our words, but our mannerisms. You duplicate dances you see on television. Here are my favorites from the last month:

"I BROKE it!" (with your hand on your forehead in distress)
"Gimme a break."
"Jo-ohn! Jo-ohn! Daddy John!"

When I put food on your plate, or hand you a book, you sweetly say "Yelcome, Mommy." I think you are actually thanking me. Truly, my heart melts each time. I'm glad you're picking up your good manners early, and at home. This will take you far in life, farther than you may recognize until much later. Your dad is polite, and it's one of the first things I noticed about him.

Every day, it seems, you become confident with new knowledge. You definitely know the letters O, T, P, S, Q, A, B and M. You recognize 3, 5, 7, 8, 9, and 10. You know and can name a triangle and a circle. You know purple, orange, and green with certainty. You're pretty good with blue and red. Yellow is a rare treat. You pull your favorite books from the shelves and say their names or a particular part that you like. One of your Sesame Street books has a page where Oscar the Grouch says, "Yucky!" You pull that book down and say "Mommy! Yucky! Yucky!" You pronounce it with disgust, just like Oscar would.

You've taken me by the hand, saying, "C'mon, Mommy. Naptime. Schweepy." You handed me a toy that was turned off and said "Won't work." You ran down the hallway toward me, pointing to your diaper and saying "Pee pee coming!" Every day, for much of the day, I marvel at you. You've always been so vocal, then verbal, but now you talk. You talk! You're picking things up so quickly.

You still prefer to be outside. It's been a little rough keeping up with you these days, but I'm doing my best. For this reason, I look so forward to spring. When we're inside for too long, we start butting heads. I won't use the alliterative description for kids your age, but I hope that we are getting some of this out of your system early. Your birthday is still a few months away. You are pushing boundaries. You don't know how to share. Well, you like to say "Share." or "Share, peese." before taking something from me. You lose your cool when you're with other kids your age. You love older kids, though. I can almost see your struggles to understand the situation you're in, the moment when you decide to give up and give in to your emotional response. It's hard being a toddler!

I know that each age will come with it's own challenges, but for each challenge, there is a gift. Your sweet kisses. You offer them freely. You make sure that if you give Daddy a kiss, there is one for me, too. One day last week, you were sitting on my lap when Gram came to pick you up. She stood in the doorway and you pointed to each of us, saying "This is Jack! This is Gram! This is Mommy!"

I've been thinking some about regret lately. I hope you don't have too many regrets when you're my age, but surely you'll have some. When I look at you, Jack, I realize that if any of the big things, or even a couple of the small things in my life had been different, you wouldn't be here. You're a grace I'm given to help me understand why things have happened or to accept their happening.

It's still an adventure being your mom.

Love,

Mama

Dear Jack,

Today you are 19 months old. We spent a good part of the day in the snow. We awoke this morning to 6" and it snowed for another four or five hours. You were unsure about playing at first, but when I started hopping around, you quickly joined in. We had a hard time getting you inside.

In your nineteeth month, you've added lots of words and a few sentences to your vocabulary. Here's a partial list of what you've been saying these days:

"hock" = hug
"stock" = stuck
"hop" = help
"ah-wool" = owl
"hosh" = house
"birt" = bird
"bah-bee" = baby
"fwah-ball"= football
"muckee" = monkey
"ah-peen" = airplane
"twee" = tree
"too-bursh" = toothbrush
"wah-TUR" = water
"ah-dun" = all done
"nah-dun" = not done

There are so many more! Your words are incredible. You can identify most of the pictures in your books.

You've starting saying "I coming!" and "I got it!" Sometimes you say "I got ____" (ball, shoe, milk). You like to hide things, like your toothbrush, and say "Where toobursh?" then, "I got toobursh!" You hide yourself and start calling "Da-ack? Da-ack!" When we say "Where's Jack?" you pop out, grinning. You point at things and ask "Wha call?" which I've determined means "what is that called?" You cup your hand to your ear when you hear a distant noise and say "What soun?" You amaze me daily, even hourly.

Your dad says I won't always love this, but when even when I'm playing with you, if you want to get my attention, you excitedly shout "Mom! Mom! Mom!" and wait until I say "Yes?" then tell me in your own words something VERY important. Maybe your dad is right, but I think a part of me will always welcome this. There may, in fact, be a time when I wish you would talk to me. Getting ahead of myself again.

It's hard not to get ahead of myself, especially this month. Day by day a little more "baby" slips away as you grow into a little boy. You can identify a few letters by sight - O, T, P, and love to say "seben et NAHN tea-in" Nine is your favorite number, it seems, and you're getting your Southern accent from Daddy.

At your 18-month check-up, you were 34.5 inches tall and 30 lbs. You're still a big boy. Your new shoes are 8.5 wide. I got the only style in that size that had velcro. I still need velcro! We'll see how long that lasts. Speaking of check-ups, you screamed from the time we entered the exam room until the time we left. I brought an Elmo puppet for the doc, and she got you laughing for a minute, but as soon as she wielded the stethoscope, more screaming.

You hate to be corraled, or restrained, or even to lie down on your back. This makes diapering you a challenge. We have a little potty for you, and a few weeks ago you walked over to it and said "Pot-tay!" That morning and a few more since then, you used the little potty successfully. It's still subject to your whim. I'm not discouraging you, but I'm not taking an active role just yet. I don't think you're quite ready, but it's good that you are interested.

This has been one of those long months. I'm tired, of course, but the feeling comes more from realizing how much has happened since the last letter. We had a hard month and lost two special people who loved you very much. I got sick and struggled in a lot of ways to learn how to mother when I'm not healthy. Mothering you is a privilege and a challenge and even when I am beyond fatigued, I feel lucky. Nothing about you is easy. You're not that kid. My days are very physical, intense, and feel hard-won most of the time. It is easy to love you, though. You have a wonderful sense of humor and a truly sweet nature.

Periodically you'll run to me and say "hock!" as I open my arms. I love hocking you, and I always will.

Love,

Mama

p.s. Spaghetti Head

18 months - Guest Post!

Dear Jack,
Your mama is my daughter. That won’t make sense for awhile. As intelligent as you are, you may not fully grasp that for years and perhaps it will take having a wee one of your own to even begin to understand. She wanted me to write all about you on your one-and-a-half-year birthday. I want to write about Mama.

It used to be that you would cry after 20 minutes without her. You can go longer now but awaken from a nap and she is gone? You will go from room to room with a pitiful, plaintive cry. Sometimes you will act as if you are in grave mourning and nothing will work to get you to understand that she has merely run an errand and will be back soon. You are more than just a ‘mama’s boy,’ you are my daughter’s boy.

Mama gave her all to get you into the world and you held back, strong and stubborn even before you took your first breath. I know now that you held onto one of her ribs just as resolutely as you hang onto the steering wheel of my car and refuse to budge. I watched my daughter breathe through contractions, change positions, give her absolute all in trying to push you out into our world and then ask what else could she do when you would not comply. She had waited for you for so long and even now you still make her wait. You were worth it at birth and you are worth it now.

Son, meet your Mama. She is an amazing person. I tell people that she is beautiful inside and out. It’s true. Yet, she wonders if she is doing what is right by you. She wonders what your future will be. She wonders and marvels at your progressive dancing and those laughing eyes. Mama sweetens my heart when she looks at you with such touching tenderness.

Mama will be your advocate when you need her. She will be your partner in discovering the wonderful world God has created. She will kiss your aches and soothe your fears. She will tickle you, adore you, cherish your very breath.

How do I know this?

I have already seen it!

It is fact, not fiction. I don’t have to create a scenario in which you play the protagonist, swaggering into life, “I’m Jack Ballard.” No, you are the swagger, you are the up-tilted face with my Dad’s dimpled chin, gazing with adoration at the one who bore you and beheld you. Mama has been there through tired tears and incredible smiles that lit up an already sunny day. I have felt honored to watch you two, as if I was watching a sacred scene and held my breath to contain it.

I told Mama two months ago that you were just the child she needed: strong, opinionated, funny, smart. Sometimes that is hard to believe, like back when you only took 30 minute naps day after day...after day…and I would see the dark circles under my daughter’s eyes. For whatever reason, there is a need for you to be quick and strong and funny and smart.

By the way, I had a baby 30 years ago. I got a girl who preferred my presence to all others. Tia Khelen would say, “K-E, let’s go play upstairs.” And she would reply, “I want to stay with Mama.” Your mama would stand by me while I did the dishes, pulled out the dry clothes, or swept the back steps. So I understand when you clasp her tightly even as you kick your feet in delight at my stepping up onto your porch to whisk you away from her. I understand that Mama is all you prefer--that in your world there are only two people: Mama and Not-Mama.

Even so, I do look forward to the day when you will spend the night with Pop and me. We will giggle under the covers and shine flashlights all around. Then we’ll read as many books as you select until I fall asleep reading them to you.

Someday, in the middle of teenage trauma you may say to Mama, as she said to me, “You don’t really care about me.” Perhaps she will hand you these letters she regularly writes. Letters that contain your history, a love story.

I love your mama. I love you, too. I love your daddy. Thank you, Jack, for letting me into your world and helping me rediscover what life looks like 34 inches above ground. Thank you, Daughter, for letting me into your world and helping me remember. I love observing the terrible love you share with your son, born of your body, succored intensely, valued to his very core.

It is an honor to be your mother, Katy. It is an honor to be your son’s Gram, the silver-haired one with the rectangular black face, chronicling his life in the best way I know how. Thank you. With love, Your Mama/Your Gram


P. S. to all Not-Mamas out there: I am actually Jack’s ‘Grum.’ He has made some amazing progress in speaking English instead of Mandarin Chinese. He actually speaks three languages now, if you count Southern English. He’s the only person I’ve ever heard turn the compound word ‘playground’ into four syllables. Just the other day he was at my house and he asked me, “What cul?” and pointed to a red hat in a book. I said, “Red” and he put a red block on his head and said, “Hat.” And it’s not just lions, and tigers, and bears, anymore, Jack’s added turtle, biders (they have 8 legs), ‘nakes, and an absolutely smile-making monkey imitation. Every time he comes to our house to play, he automatically gives me my favorite giraffes (how did he know?) while he digs and digs for the tiger, growling while he searches. The thing that makes me laugh lately is his, “Oh, nooooo!” with pursed lips and brows drawn downward. He will have the ‘I-think-you-are-crazy-Grum’ itty bitty smile on his face when I pretend to feed the toy animals but I have also seen him cook delicious meals for me, stirring the pots while saying, “Hot” and blowing on the ‘food’ so I won’t burn my tongue. Love it! I could go on and on, it’s a grandparent’s prerogative, but perhaps Mama wants to add a comment or two.

Dear Jack,

Today you are 17 months old. I'm going to go a little off-script this month, but before I do, here are some highlights from the last month:

Your first sentence? "Not done."
You are 34" tall - almost a yardstick.
You can jump with two feet and you attempt to skip.
With you dressed as the cutest Charlie Chaplin ever, we won the costume contest at the library.
You have started to tickle me, saying "tickatickaticka" while you do.
You say "Ooooohhhh Noooooooooooo" and it's adorable.
I can translate some of your dialect now. "Duh-Tuh" is firetruck.
All four of your first molars have crested through and your canine teeth are sometimes swollen looking.
You make a new friend every time we go to the park.

There is something I want to tell you now, about me. I don't know when you'll read these letters, but I hope one day you will. I don't feel like I am painting an overly-rosy portait of life as a first-time mom on this blog, but I struggle more than these letters probably portray. I don't know how my health will be as you grow. More and more these days, I feel anger and sadness about my disease. I have chosen to shoulder most of the load of your care and your growth. I don't regret it. And I don't want to regret it. Here is the truth: I don't know how to take care of myself. I know how to take care of other people and I am happy when I have the opportunity to do so. That's why, in so many ways, being your mom is the ultimate fulfillment for me. But it's been easy to fall into denial about my health, to accept a status quo of tired-as-normal. If it were that simple, my denial could last. But it's not. It won't always be.

I want you to take a lesson from me now, because I don't know if the mom you know later in life will tell you this: help other people as much as you can, but accept help. Learn how to love yourself the way you love other people. Be grateful for the blessing of your strong, beautiful body, but protect it and treat it well. Your mom is trying to learn these things a little late and the stakes are high.

If parents want better for their kids, this is my quest for you. Learn from me. I am learning to love myself even if I can't always do the things I want to do. If I can't be everything. I am learning to believe people love me regardless of what I do, for who I am.

I hope that in my learning, I can show you that my love for you is truly unconditional.


Mama

Dear Jack, my little helper,

Today you are 16 months and two days old. My good intentions just didn't quite cut it this month, but here I am, and here is your letter.

The past month has been one of those long months, not because of fatigue (though that is there) or boredom (not a chance), but because you have changed SO much in the past thirty days. Everyday, it seems, brings a new skill, or habit, or word, or expression. I can almost see the connections your brain is making. It's exciting!Communication has been at the forefront this month. A few weeks ago you started really forceful communication in your own dialect. "Wee-doo-wee-doo-wee" is one of my favorites. You look at me with earnest determination and repeat a bit of jibberish several times. But it's not jibberish, is it? You seem to know exactly what you are saying. Sometimes I know, too, but more often I nod and look concerned. You ramped up the sign language in the last few weeks two. Your rare "please" has become perfunctory, and over the last week you started signing "more" and "please" in succession. How polite of you! You have thrown me a "thank you" a couple of times. You also started saying "NO!", but it's more like "noooooooowww." It's cute and it's you. We'll see how long that lasts.

You like to mimic what we say, but you aren't quite a parrot. Water is "Wa-wer" and apple is "Aah! Oh!" Your receptive language is amazing. In a Sesame Street book we have, you point to each character when asked. You get Bert and Big Bird mixed up, but I'll cut you some slack. You can follow directions (if you want to) and seem eager to please. I've become more and more aware that your listening ears are collecting all of my words. What a responsibility (and privilege)!

All day long you are pulling things out of drawers and cabinets, folded clothes from baskets, warm clothes from the dryer, dirty clothes from your hamper. You're quick to put things back when I ask you to. More helping! You bring me things throughout the day, too. Sometimes toys. Especially books you want me to read. You play in the kitchen, stirring a spoon in a bowl, or reaching up with a spatula to "cook" on the stove top. You feed me imaginary spoonfuls!

You're still a flirt, but you've developed this coy response to returned affections. You hang your head and glance up through your long lashes as if to say, "Who me? Cute?" Heartbreaker! You blow kisses with gusto and you spontaneously give hugs and kisses now. These, my son, are the balm for my soul. We were visiting our friend Whitt at her dance studio last week and you had your eyes trained on a ballerina. She was about four years old and nearly twice your height, but you had to have your hug and kiss. We may have to help tone down your amorous advances. I've found myself calling you "Bruiser" more than a few times this month. You've gotten scrapes, cuts, blackeyes, bruises, and bites. You are taking full advantage of your growing agility. You can climb onto our (high) bed now, and you can fall off. You climb onto the couch and scoot yourself onto the coffee table. You take advantage of a chair left pulled out from the table in the kitchen and you've climbed all the way up to the tabletop. I'm glad we have heavy metal chairs that you haven't (yet) figured out how to move on your own. You climb out of the bath now when you are ready (even if we're not). You crash and bang all day long. You've started bring your boo-boos to me for a kiss. All better! If only my kisses could protect and heal you forever.

You don't seem to have grown much over the last month. You may be a little heavier and your feet a little bigger. Most of the change is happening in your mouth! You had a particularly rough night last week then slept hard. In the morning, the tips of two top molars had broken through. It's just the beginning for those big teeth. I hope they come in quickly. You seem to be extra drooly now. Overall, though, you are a pretty easy teether, molar man.We took a family trip up to Jones Gap on Saturday. You didn't last long on the trail, but I can't blame you. There were so many rocks to try and eat! Sticks galore! Leaves! It is a toddler's wonderland.Days like that one leave me so excited for what's in store. Hiking, swimming, camping. Long days of doing nothing but enjoying God's creation. I admit that I need to see the world through your eyes sometimes, son. Fresh and full of possibility. Wonder. Gratitude. I may not always be ready for every adventure, but I will do my best to keep up with you.

I love you so very much,

Mama