Dear Jack,

It's my fault that this post is coming two days past your 29 monthiversary. You, your Mom, and Dad have graciously come to visit and help us work on our new house. Spending time with you is a precious gift in the middle of a busy semester. Your laugh is both contagious and heart-lightening. The wonder you bring to the world around you is refreshing; we should all be as curious and full of amazement as you are. While you can be strong-willed at times, you also are good at listening and enjoy being helpful. Your memory amazes me; you recall everything that you did at my house the last time you were here--playing with Uncle Paul's matchbox cars and beating on his drum. Speaking of Uncle Paul, you have asked me a few times this weekend, "Who's your boy?" I am gladdened by your sweet nature with animals; you are eager to give my dog hugs and to pet my cat, even though he would rather have nothing to do with you. You obviously love your Mama and Daddy very much, showering them with spontaneous kisses and hugs. I am privileged enough to receive some of these signs of affection. I hope you know how much I adore you. You have a family that loves and cares for you deeply. I hope you realize that we are always trying to keep you safe and healthy, which means you can't always do what you want. I am grateful for the relationship I have with your parents, partly because I get to be a part of your life!

I love you very much,

Tia Khelen

p.s. here's a picture of the world's cutest tiger:

Dear Jack,

Today you are 28 months old. 2 1/3 years. Daddy's home sick today and you're watching Wall-E with him. Your budding empathy is so sweet. You looked at him this morning for a long time, narrowing your eyes, and choosing carefully the words "Daddy? Are you aw-wight?" You're still a live cannon, typically two in your interactions with other kids, but I can see you beginning to process how your actions affect others. You've started saying "Mommy, I was JUST JOKing!" This morning you said that about running a toy car over your friend Sydney's foot. We'll work on that, my son.

This month you have been using the potty a lot, but still not regularly. I am not stressing about it, though I would very much like to say goodbye to diapers. We may have another year to go, but you're making progress and I'll take it. You are on your third "potty chart."
You like the process so much that sometimes we sit on the potty and read story after story after story. You insist on flushing, but only wash your hands at my insistence. You're happiest, it seems, when you're dirty. Sometimes when we're out and about I glance at your fingernails, caked with black dirt and experience parental shame. Then again, no one looks at your fingernails. They look at your cute face. I still get the glow from being in your entourage. Your blue eyes rarely escape comment. Now that you've started thanking everyone (librarians, bakers, people who hold the door for us), I'm pretty sure you could run for Mayor and make a good showing.

Most mornings, you cry when Daddy leaves for work. As he's getting dressed, you start asking "Daddy? You're going to Mish-a-win today?" When he says yes, you insist that you are going with him. He tells you he wishes you could, but you'll have fun today and he'll see you later. You run to the window and watch him drive away. A few days ago I heard you recanting this daily conversation to yourself while you played with blocks. It's a little heartbreaking, but I'm so happy that you love your dad and look forward to his return. Daddy went to Clemson for a game a couple of weeks ago, and as we laid down to go to sleep, you called out into the darkness "DADDY!!! YOU AT CWIMSON? DA-ADDY!!!!" You two have a special bond. You've been spending a lot of time in the backyard when he gets home, throwing the football or swinging while I make dinner.

All three of us were tossing the football around last week, and you suddenly cheered, "We are the Team-ers! Go Teamers!" You also cheer for the Tigers. After we went to see Rayna's game last weekend, you've added a "Woooo!" to the end of your cheers.

When you see Daddy and I hug each other, you jump up and run over, shouting, "Family Hug!!!" Those hugs heal me, and I'm so glad to share them with my two guys.

You're still singing all kinds of songs. I heard you as you fell asleep singing "Snuggle snuggle snuggle, hug hug hug, squeeze squeeze squeeze," giggling while you sang. These are the moments when I feel like we must be doing something right. When I know you feel loved and cared for, even if I'm not right there with you. You may feel so loved that you feel like you can argue with me. ALL. THE. TIME. When I ask or tell you to do something, you love to say "No kanks." On worse days, you say " No, I will NOT! I will NEVER do ______." The counting is still working for now. You can be so reasonable and so expressive that we can avoid frustration for a long time. But when you're tired, hungry, or both, you lose your cool. Hey, so do I.

Here are a few more cute things you've said this month:

"I can't be-YEEVE it!"
"That's imPOSSible!"
"It's ru-eened!"
"I twashed it!"
"Mommy, you're cute!"

For that last one, you earned one million points in the game MommyLand. Redeemable on days when I feel like I can't be calm anymore. When I'm tired of arguing. When I want to take the easy way out. Parenting you is an intense adventure. I remind myself that when I want to love you the least, I need to love you the most. When you're exasperating, I will draw you closer. We'll work through it together. Then I will drink after you go to sleep. Just kidding. Mommy's a lightweight.


I love you lots.

Mama

p.s. Last week as we laid down for bed, you started singing "Mary, Mary, Mar-y!" I suddenly felt the presence of your great-Grandma so strongly that I even looked over my shoulder. Her name was Mary Katherine, my namesake. I cried then, because she didn't get to meet you, or even your dad. She would be so amazingly proud of you. She would think you (and your cousins) hung the moon. She was so very special to me, and I look forward to telling you about her, and showing you her pictures. Grandma Rhodes was a teeny tiny woman with a heart so big she glowed. She's part of you, and I'm so thankful for that.

Dear Jack,

Tomorrow you will be 27 months old. That's right, I'm a day early. We're leaving for Florida tomorrow and I don't want to miss this month's letter. At 27 months, you're a bolt of lightning! A ray of sunshine! A rumbling storm cloud! A beautiful tempest, my sweet boy. Over the last month you have built an even larger vocabulary and started using those words in most hilarious ways. My favorite lately is the exaggerated "welllllll..." that you use to answer almost any question. "Would you like milk or juice?" "Well...." It's part showmanship, part pensiveness and I just love it.

You sing to yourself (and me) all the time these days. Your songs are hybrids of familiar tunes and your own lyrics, or completely your own creations. Your voice is clear and you can carry a tune. Music is in you. I hope we can continue to develop your love of it so it can become a comfort and a craft for you. We took a three-week music class this month, and you loved it. You danced wildly, drummed with abandon, and learned the class songs quickly. You could get distracted by, say, a broom in the classroom, but when the instruments came out, your focus would narrow. I look forward to enrolling you in a longer course next year.

The imaginative play that emerged over the last few months continues to evolve. You drew lots of straight lines with crayons, starting at the bottom of the page and quickly moving up, saying "I maked an elevator!" I overheard you in your carseat the other day, your hands "fighting" with each other. "I'm gonna get you!" "No, you are NOT!" This evolution has led to a few tall tales, as well. We were playing in the backyard one afternoon, and you shreiked loudly. I asked you what was the matter, and this is what you said: "A bee flew me! And BAM! He bammed me and I fall down and BAM!" I don't know if I can adequately describe the facial expressions and gestures that accompanied this story, but suffice it to say it involved smacking your own face. I would have believed you if I hadn't been watching to see that nothing at all had happened. That same bee has "BAMmed" you a few times since then.

In telling stories of what's happened in your life, you have developed a few new words - yestermorn, yesternight, and yesterweek. For this lover of words and their origins, there is no greater gift than to watch you develop language and do it creatively. My little Shakespeare. Your expressive face makes talking to you a lot of fun. You've started really stopping to think through your sentences. It can take you a while to get out your thought, but it's so often worth the wait. You haven't gotten to the "why" stage, but you do ask "what happened?" all. the. time. Your newest question is "What does it mean?" You often ask "What are you cooking for me, Mommy?" or "What are those birds going to do for me, Mommy?" This from the budding narcissist who pronounced to me in the car one day "Look at the beautiful trees I made!"


This wouldn't be an accurate account of you at 27 months if I did not at least bring up the fact that you have become extremely difficult to comfort at times, and equally bullheaded. You've always been intense. You've never been easy to distract. But this month you've started saying, about a clean diaper, perhaps, "I will NEVER do it. I will NOT do it." You're so TWO. Coupled with your physical strength, it's been challenging to parent you at times. I've started "counting." The old don't-let-me-get-to-three routine. It's not something that I planned to do, but it seems that just the threat of time-out can garner a little cooperation. I want to find a way to help you be motivated by something other than a threat, but for now, it seems like the only thing that works to get you moving. You are sprinting by the count of "two" and you profusely apologize if I have counted even that far. Parenting isn't pretty sometimes.

You seem to experience new emotions (and perhaps a little empathy) when you've accidentally hurt one of us. You apologize and pat our backs. You geniunely, and without prompting, say "I love you." Yesterday, when your dad came home from work, you stopped swinging and sat in his lap to say "I miss you, Daddy." I'm pretty sure I heard his hard heart cracking in there somewhere. One afternoon as I changed your clothes, you pulled all three of us together, and with your nose buried in our knees said "Family hug." This sweet side makes it all so much easier.

You're a cool kid. There's no other way to say it.
My heart grows all the time to contain the love I have for you. Even then it spills over. Being your mom helps me love everyone even more.

Mama

p.s. Recently you had your first stomach virus. This event will forevermore be referred to as Rush Week. It sure felt like hazing and initiation. So, I'm really a mom now, I guess. You are ridiculously sweet when you are sick, I discovered. So clingy and quiet and pitiful. I knew you had turned the corner when you started demanding things again. :) I'm glad you're better.

26 months

Dear Jack,

This month's letter will be more like a mirror reflection than a Mama reflection. I love you and I'm tired! I hope you enjoy these pictures and stories from your last month.

-One of your favorite things to say this month is "Come see us!"
-You have started playing with our ears as you fall asleep.
-One morning when I turned on the record player and the volume was a little loud you shouted "Mommy, cover you ears! Cover you ears!"
-I bought you a foam hat that is shaped like a crocodile and the cashier asked if you could make a crocodile sound. You thought for a moment and then shouted "Croc-a-dock-a-dooooo!"
-Passing a junkyard, you said "I breaked those cars! I gotta fix 'em!"

and here is the best one...

You: Mommy, where's is my brains?
Me: Right here in your head.
You: In my skin?
Me: Yes, under your skin. Your skin and your skull protect your brain.
You: I don't fink so. My brains is in my belly.









Love,

Mama

Dear Jack,

You are now 25 months old. The last month has been busy and wonderful. Like always, I'll sit down for a few minutes and try to pull it all together so we can remember. Better late than never, right?

At your two-year check up you weighed 31.5 pounds and were 37" tall. Your noggin is 20.5" around and officially off the charts. Thankfully you seem to have a big brain in that cranium, and a big body to hold it up. You were still upset to see the doctor even though we talked at length about all the things she would do. You just don't like to be poked, prodded, or restrained. Dr V. is a nice lady, though, and she assured me that you are in perfect health.


You had a haircut last week and it went about as well as your check up. Okay, worse. You shrieked, protested, pleaded, and sobbed. A lollipop couldn't appease you. We left with the best we could get. We may need to change our strategy, but I know you. You're not going to like it anywhere and there's just no tricking you. Unfortunately, you don't have the cool wavy hair that can be shaggy for months. Nope, you're Cousin It without regular trims.

Your vocabulary continues to grow and build. I have noticed that you seem to be figuring out linguistics and grammar on your own now instead of simply repeating what you hear. You use the preposition "for" in the place of many others, saying. "I'm scared for it!" or "Hold on for it, Mommy." My personal favorite is "Yummy for my tummy!" You say "mans" instead of men. It's cool to see you going through this language building process. I'm amazed sometimes at the conversations we have. You tell me stories about what is happening with your cars and trucks. You told your dad about a really loud, scary black truck that woke you up. You recount meetings with friends or trips to the playground. Your interest in books is still strong. We read all day long and take weekly trips to the library for new books. One of your favorites is This Truck. Three weeks ago, you sat in your bed and "read" it to us, start to finish.

I filled up your baby pool last week and you hopped right in. I decided to dip my feet in. You sweetly asked, "Mommy, wanna take your pwincess off?" You were referring to the dress I was wearing, urging me to splash with you. I love the associations you make, and I love the way you tried to butter me up. One of your favorite things to do lately is ask me to make certain sounds. "Mommy, make a BIG truck sound!" "Mommy, make a tiny truck sound." After lunch the other day you said, "Mommy, make a purple sound!" I asked you what purple sounds like, and you made a quiet, motorboat sound with your lips. According to you, green sounds like a steady faucet (shhhhhhhhhhhhhh). You're so cool.


This month hasn't been without a little bit of frustration. You push boundaries and often demand to have your way. You've been physically challenging. You say please less and less without prompting. You're two. You're normal. But I've had a lot of fun and enjoyed you so much.

Tonight, you recited the Lord's Prayer with me. Your tiny voice repeating sacred words broke and healed my heart in the same moment. To the world, you're two. But you are 25 precious months of my life. Will I still be counting at 67 months? 167? Somewhere, deep inside, I'm sure I will.

Mama

p.s. this month we met up with my best friends and their kids and I couldn't have been happier in that moment. You are still talking about all those sweet people and that is so awesome.




p.p.s You've been telling me this joke for weeks:

You: Knock knock.
Me: Who's There?
You: Guess.
Me: Guess who?
You: A bulldozer!

Dear Jack,

Today you are two years old. TWO YEARS OLD! What an exciting day for all of us. You walked around saying "My birfday's coming on Fri-DAY!" It didn't matter to you that today is actually Friday, you were excited either way. You know that you are having a "parr-y" and you look forward to your cake! cake! CAKE! I have been running around crazy trying to get things ready for the big bash we have planned for tomorrow. Even though rain is in the forecast, we'll have a lot of fun. Lots of people are coming to share the day with you.

When I've asked you how old you are today, you hold up both your pointer fingers! You haven't quite gotten the hang of the "peace sign," but you've got a whole year of being two ahead of you. We had a small family party tonight and you very much enjoyed a slice of cake and were completely enamored with the gift Daddy and I got you. It's a wooden parking deck/airport thing I thrifted (complete with an elevator and ramps!) and we decked it out with some Matchbox cars, planes, and helicopters. You really wouldn't look away from it for half an hour. You didn't smile the entire time! You can be SO serious, my son.



This month you've been cracking me up daily. You love to make statements about the world around you, like, "This book is my fervitt, fervitt, fervitt!" Yes, you have many favorite books, and your enthusiasm is wonderful. You love to announce when I've finished my meal or had my last sip, "Mommy eat it all! Mommy drink it all!" I put on an old skirt that's kind of full and you proclaimed "Mommy's a Pwinciss!" After singing a song, or reading a book, you often tell me "Good job, Mommy!" I love how you are cataloging your life and sharing your discoveries with me. Your






weird streak is emerging, too. You like to spin in circles to get "bizzy," all the while telling yourself "Get careful, Jack!" You fall in a heap and giggle, or run into a wall and cry. You're not deterred! You like to pull your hands inside your pajama sleeves and ask me "Where my hand, Mommy?" You do the same thing with your feet under a blanket. I walked into the kitchen, where you laid on the floor with your big dump truck next to your face, shouting "Don't get my cheek!!" I love your imagination!

We went to the beach for a few days and you were a little uncertain about the ocean. You ended up playing some in the shallows but for the most part you kept your distance. You'd walk to the shore and point to the waves, declaring "Stop! Stay, Ocean! No coming here Ocean! Stop, Ocean!" I'd say there is no better time to learn that the ocean doesn't take orders and learn to respect it.


When we were walking downtown the other day, I started coughing. You sweetly asked, "You're okay, Mommy? You okay?" You asked your dad the other night at dinner "You yike it Daddy, you yike it?" There is so very much about you that makes me smile this month. You continue to push your limits and can really get upset at times, but this month has been a lot of fun for me, and I love to watch you making new discoveries and learning that being silly makes people smile. I hope you can keep a balance of the serious concentration you can devote to a new experience and the joy of being a goofball.


I keep notes in my calendar of the things you say and do, and this month was so full of these memories that I could go on and on. I won't. I think I've painted a picture of you this month, you at two, that will give us both a glimpse of Jackaroni when we look back some day.

In many ways, I feel like you've been here so much longer than two years, as if my life before you were born is compressed and compartmentalized, and these 24 months you've been in my life represent a new book, not just a new chapter. We went to vacation Bible school last week, and part of the adult devotion was an exercise where we wrote a list of what we loved. Later we wrote a perfunctory list of what we had done that day, then looked at the two lists together to see if what we love is showing up in what we do. I felt incredibly rich, looking at my list. In taking you to the library and the playground, in cooking you lunch and even changing your diapers, my work is my love and my love is my work. I know this is unfortunately rare in life, and I plan to continue savoring this season. I thanked your dad for making this possible for me. Being your mom has changed me. There is no other way to say it. But I am grateful for every minute I have with you and I love you beyond my ability to express.

At two, you are:

Strong (stwong)
Beautiful (bee-full)
Funny
Sweet
Stubborn
Kind
Energetic
Intense
Lovely
Talkative

I'm so glad you are mine, Jack Ballard. Happy Birthday, sweet boy.

Mama

Dear Jack,

Today you are 23 months old. You're sleeping now, after a long day with lots of fun and a few tears. I joined the YMCA, and you screamed the entire time I was exercising. The nice ladies in the Child Watch area were kind enough to give me 40 minutes before calling me back in. I don't know why separating from me continues to be so difficult for you. As I dropped you off, the tears were flowing, but I could see that you really wanted to play with a big dump truck. You weren't able to accept what you ought to know is true: Mommy always comes back. The women were so nice and encouraged us both to keep coming back. We will. I hope you'll let the part of you that saw the trucks lead you into what can be a fun time for you.

The last month, you've gained more vocabulary and started putting together longer and longer sentences. Most notably, though, is your imagination. Your independent play has been come so entertaining for us both. Early last month, I overheard you as you "drove" your ride-on car. As you turned the wheel, you said "How 'bout dis way? No! How 'bout dat way?" I caught you in front of the mirror one day singing a lovely song, "I NOT gonna sing! I NOT gonna sing!" One morning you popped awake and said with a very serious face "I drumming! I'm gonna drum!I wanna drum!" I wonder if you were dreaming about pounding some skins. You took kitchen tongs, held them up to your ears and said "I doctor!" This last one made me smile. You've been to the doctor so few times, but you associate a stethoscope with that job.

You've started growling and shrieking, and using some interesting voices. When you read to yourself, you often growl or grumble or giggle. I'm amazed by you! These growls and frowns, though, pop up in our daily interactions, too. You've started making a grumpy face. It seems to be your favorite face these days, and you say "I'm MAD!" while you stick out your bottom lip and furrow your brow. I admit it's cute, but I much prefer the toothy grin of your happy face.

Luckily, there is some sweetness emerging, too. As we snuggled one night after reading, you touched my cheek and said "I happy." Flutter, heart. You have started to thank us when we give you things. It sounds more like "Kee-Q, Mommy," and it warms my heart. I think it may be a diversion tactic, but when I'm changing your diaper, you reach up and say "I wanna hug. I wanna Mommy hug!" Of course I oblige. At dinner tonight, you held out a piece of pizza and said "Take a bite, Mommy." Thank you for sharing with me. At every age, new challenges come along with new blessings.

We weaned you this month, too. I should say, that I weaned myself. You handled it amazingly well and with Daddy's help, we accomplished this task quickly. The tears were mostly mine. I do miss nursing you, a little. It was the bond we alone shared for almost two years. Every mom experiences this feeling in some way as her child grows up. I'm sure these feelings will resurface often, and I pray that you continue to gracefully move into new seasons. I will try my best to do the same.

Once again I find myself having written so much, yet barely scratched the surface of capturing my complicated, wonderful boy.

I love you,

Mama.