Newsletter, Miles

Month 19, Version 2.0

Dear Miles,

We have come to the moment where I realize you’re growing up way too fast.  It’s pretty remarkable how one minute you have this tiny helpless baby who is just a lump in your arms and the next thing you know, poof, toddler.  I have to be honest, you’re a pain in the ass at times i.e. following me around screaming while I try to wrangle Fabrizio outside and bring in groceries.  A pain in the ass, yes but a true love as well.  I do love this age and I remember a similar time with Liv.  You have a love and curiosity in you that is something to be desired.  Unlike your counterpart, you still love to show me affection and you do it often.  Your sister has crossed the threshold and has learned to turn on the love when she wants something – you on the other hand only have pure unadulterated love to give.  You take me reprimanding you fairly well and apologize to me with a hug without me even asking you.  Another glorious addition to this age is your desire to want to clean up.  Olivia is usually scowling in the corner as she watches me boasting over what a wonderful helper you are.  I can usually hear your screams of terror once I leave the room from Olivia seeking out her own vengeance in the matter. 

Yea, that “Siblings Without Rivalry” book isn’t really working for me.   I try to follow the scenarios but it’s almost as if you and Olivia received your own copy of “Siblings With Rivalry – How to Debunk the Other One.”  The problem is you and your sister are too smart for me.  When the thought of children crossed our minds, we thought we would be graced with these simple-minded, yes ma’am and sir children.  Instead I got children with opinions and an “I can do it by myself” attitude.  Someone got short-changed here.  You and Olivia feed off of each other which makes most parenting situations interesting.  I feel like I’ve lost absolute control on most days – you and Olivia in a shopping cart exchanging annoying sounds as the volume increases and increases.  I try to maintain my stance as the all-encompassing power parent while trying to bring two crazy goons back to Earth only to have my voice drowned out by “HEY MILES – EEEEEEEE!”  and you following up with a “AHHHHHHHHHH!”  I regain power by removing what ever snacks you and your sister are hoarding in your little paws and I prepare for the volume to once again increase.  I have to be prepared for the spits and screams directed at me while, voila, power back in my hands.  A traveling circus is what some people may call it but to me, it’s just a regular ol’ Tuesday.

I have mentioned before that you have a burning desire to dance and that paired up with your decreasing stranger anxiety makes you one mobile party animal.  We attended an event this past week at Wente Vineyards where you pretty much owned the dance floor.  You paired up with your little Brontosaurus, made one unstoppable duo.  Of course, you attracted the attention of every living soul in a half mile radius which only fuels the fire.  You cheered, clapped and raised the roof and you in that moment were in utter bliss.  I was a proud Momma until you grabbed hold of the tent pole and proceeded to grind it.  At that moment, I relinquished my parenting duties to your Father.

I’m happy we live in an era where most things can be done without talking on the telephone because you really do require my attention at all times.  It’s absolutely true that if a child is too quiet, something is wrong.  You know that when the telephone comes out, it means you have x-amount of minutes to make shit messy.  I was on a phone call that lasted no more than five minutes and in this time you managed to break a ceramic gnome, feed a piece of blue chalk to Fabrizio and attempted to insert a key in to the one outlet I didn’t have a plastic cover for.  When I’m not on the phone, I couldn’t bribe you with pork roasts to make you move that fast.  Your sister is familiar with this notion as well because last week while I was on the phone, I turned around to find your sister with a plastic bag over her head and you standing next to her, shrilling with excitement.  Needless to say, I stopped using the phone and instead look at it as a reminder of a simpler time.

You’re a funny guy who still has not perfected the gift of speech but you seem to find no problem in communicating your needs.  You scream and slap your hand on the kitchen table when you want more food and you say goodbye by taking a wide stance, squatting with one arm in the air yelling “BEHHHHHHH!”  Everybody needs to be bid adieu this way at some point.  You adore your Father and always greet him with a very loud and very clear ‘DADA!’  This makes me so happy given that your Father spent the first six months of your life telling you to grow a pair – maybe tough love paid off.  I’m going to sit back and enjoy every one of these moments because thanks to Liv, I know what lies ahead and it makes me tremble with fear.  Right now you are perfect with the exception of the flesh-eating poop bombs you drop in the night but I can handle that if you continue to love me unconditionally.  Now, stop feeding things to Fabrizio – contrary to what he makes you believe, you can’t buy love with food.

Love,

Momma

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