Newsletter, Miles

Month 42, Version 2.0

Dear Miles,

One must learn that when they are accompanied by a small child, much like yourself, that one should limit the amount of fluids that particular child consumes.  This may seem like an odd thought but it’s really a rather important thing to remember unless you enjoy spending a great deal of time in restrooms which I do not.  I point this out because you are one child in particular who has no problems going to the bathroom every ten minutes.  Case in point, on our way to take Olivia to her theater class, you were in possession of your full water bottle.  When we arrived at our destination fifteen minutes later, the entire water bottle was empty.  I knew the next hour was going to be one long bathroom fest.  Sure enough, ten minutes after we sat down in Olivia’s class, you anxiously grabbed your crotch and through your gritted teeth said, pee-pee!  We then played this game for the duration of the class.  In one hour, you went to the bathroom five times.  FIVE!  Of course you also enjoy the game of pretending you’re finished and then we head back to our seats only to have you immediately tell me that you now have to go #2.  No matter how much I try to make you sit and get everything out, you insist on making a full second trip back to the bathroom to complete your business.  Thanks to you, I’m really quite an expert on public bathroom facilities.  At any given point of time, I can riddle off where the nearest bathroom is and the amenities or lack thereof, offered at the location.

Easter quickly came and went this year and I totally slacked on my ultimate parent and memory making ways.  We did no photo op with the Easter bunny nor did we dye Easter eggs.  Yes, Pinterest had a million fun filled craft ideas and yes, there were people out there who proudly displayed their crafty Easter moments but I simply just couldn’t muster up the energy to care.  For the first time since well, Olivia was born, I didn’t feel like this holiday had to be the ultimate in holidays.  I wasn’t trying to convince you and Olivia and everyone else that I’m this crafting expert or a mini Martha.  Sure, I could have dyed Easter eggs using natural dyes or done a very elaborate egg stenciling using an assortment of leaves that I collected on my various walks but I in turn decided to just enjoy the day with my family.  Quite frankly, I’m exhausted from how elaborate holidays and parties are now thanks to Pinterest and the likes.  I’m fairly certain that you will in no way, shape or form, be effected by my lack of skill this Easter holiday.  You seemed pretty jolly Easter morning when you found the trail of plastic Easter eggs leading you to an egg hunt in the backyard and you can even imagine my surprise when you opened one of the eggs to discover a beer bottle cap–never let your dad help after an evening of drinking.  What I’m trying to say here is that it was just nice to put aside the nonsense and just sit back and enjoy the day.  Big thanks to your GG for letting me do that.

Despite my best efforts to refrain from too much candy this holiday, we somehow ended up with two giant baskets of various candy in addition to three chocolate bunnies and a gargantuan jar of jelly beans.  Apparently you just cannot resist all this candy because your dad discovered you upstairs in the playroom with quite a number of chocolate wrappers strewn about on the floor.  You sneaky little thing had the audacity to sneak chocolate and consume it in private.  You know that’s my move.  Have you been watching my mid-afternoon antics in the pantry?  Do you ever wonder where all your holiday candy goes?  Neither do I.

As Olivia gets older, she spends more and more time doing her own thing, forcing you to find ways to entertain yourself.  Being that I always appear to be cleaning something in this house and with dad always at the office, you’re pretty much left to play alone.  I actually consider this to be very healthy and a requirement in this house because surely you’re not going to develop an awesome imagination if you’re constantly depending on others for entertainment.  You actually play very well by yourself and it’s rather funny to hear you give your toys dialogue.  Liv plays with dolls and figurines occasionally but for the most part, has always spent majority of her time drawing.  I never really heard her give dialogue to her toys with the exception when she would play Starbucks drive-thru and all the cars would order a grande soy cinnamon dolce latte with light whip.  You on the other hand will have very elaborate play scenarios that involve anything from cars to dinosaurs to army men.  I went upstairs one day to discover that you lined up eight of your best stuffed friends and sitting in front of each one was a stack of Legos that you called, ‘their cake.’  How adorable it was to see you up there having a cake party with your friends and not once did someone have to step in to entertain you.

Since you are a very physical and aggressive boy, I’ve done my best to shield you from overly aggressive and violent content but somehow it finds you.  One of your favorite activities is to pretend to shoot people. I’m not at all thrilled by this activity but understand it’s a normal boy thing.  When the garbage man or mailman drive by, they smile and wave to you and in turn, you hold up anything and pretend it’s a gun.  At swim lessons, one of the instructors asked you what you received from the Easter bunny and you proudly announced that you received a gun.  What?  Olivia then proceeded to tell the same instructors that she received a long and beautiful Elsa dress which she did not.  What little liars you two are.  Are you really that ashamed to tell your instructors that you received bubbles and crayons?  Were your Easter baskets not good enough for your liking?  You two are crazy people who lie and have no appreciation for what’s good for you.  You do have a sensitive side though because after you pretend to shoot me, you run over and ask if I’m ok.  You have a very conflicted soul, Miles.

As the days grow longer and the weather gets a little warmer, we find ourselves outside quite a bit.  Unfortunately, thanks to allergies, I’m a zombie for the next six weeks.  Nothing is more frustrating as a parent than suffering from allergies and trying to discipline two unruly children.  How can I get my point across when I have to stop and sneeze a dozen times in a row.  Usually I throw my hands in the air and scream, forget it!  You discover me on a daily basis, anticipating a sneeze and you sit there for a moment confused at why I’m standing still with my eyes squinted and my mouth open looking up at the ceiling.  I sense you’re there and I wait for the tiny words from you, Momma, what are you doing?  Why are you doing that?  Momma?  Mom?  Momma?  I hate allergy season.

Despite my suffering, I still force you and Olivia to go outside to play because you two have way too much energy and I’m tired of discovering you both still awake at nearly 10:00 at night.  Given how much time we spend outside, you’re becoming quite the little sports enthusiast.  Our nights typically involve baseball, hockey, soccer and now you enjoy accompanying me to the track to run a few laps with me.  Given the insane cost of living in the bay area and the fact that I can hardly keep up financially with your growing appetite, I’m going to need you to excel in one of these sports if you ever dream of going to college.  I realize the competition out there is stiff but I’m willing to elbow a few children and their parents if it’s necessary.  No pressure or anything but you’re our new retirement plan.  Start excelling at one of these sports because your dad and I have big plans for retirement.  Without you we may have to live in the back room of some decrepit retirement home that smells like urine and bologna.  Don’t let that happen or we’ll be very sad.  I know, you will sadly recall the year of the lackluster Easter and will question your existence and the extent of my love for you and will determine that my lack of motivation on my end to present to you a memorable holiday means that I didn’t have limitless love for you and thus will begin the downward spiral that will be your life and you will lack all desire to help out your poor mother in her old age.  I’m screwed.

Love,

Momma

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