Happy Birthday, Adam!
Yeah, yeah, so I'm a bit behind on my posts. Once classes are over I'll go back to posting lame, boring journal entries and you'll all be begging me to stop. Enjoy my silence. It rarely happens. If you don't believe me, ask the sisters.
ONE BIG YEAR, my baby boy! I'm amazed you've not only survived one full year of Elizatorture, but you've thrived. Don't get me wrong, she actually likes you. But once in a while, when you cross that invisible line and threaten to breathe on her Polly Pocket Princess tribe of 5, ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE.
Never, ever touch the Princess Pollies. We're learning this. All of us. We'll get through it together.
I keep a journal for you and write down your milestones. I've been doing the same thing for Elizabeth too, and every few months I check your progress and compare it to hers when she was your age. So far the two of you have been pretty much the same, except you started walking at a year and Elizabeth was almost a year and a half old before she started to walk. We'll keep that our little secret because, well, she's a little competitive and the idea of you doing something before she did might send her right over the edge.
But you. You, my friend, are a laid-back easy goin' dancin' machine. You don't care about competition or rat races or much of anything except FOOD and SLEEP. Those are the two things that dominate your life and it's a delicate balance that can often mean the difference between sunshine and HELL for everyone who comes in contact with you.
In a matter of billi-seconds you can shift from cheery Big Bird to something that might resemble Oscar's mutant offspring, if Oscar had any offspring. The shift is ALWAYS due to one of two possible reasons: Either not enough food or not enough sleep. Thankfully it's pretty easy to figure out which one it is.
Your favorite game is Pillow Hurl. We love playing it with you. We discovered this game by accident one day when we dropped a pillow on the floor. You charged, dove into it headfirst and laughed like a 6-year old who has just discovered the humorous art of farting. Now anytime you start to fuss, we simply toss a pillow on the floor and watch you go. Sometimes you land on the pillow and sometimes you faceplant. You don't seem to care either way because you think it is THE FUNNIEST THING ON EARTH. We do too.
You walk. Dude, do you walk. And you CLIMB, just like your father. I'm certain that one day I'm going to come home to find my tribe climbing along the ceiling like a pack of Brundleflies. Won't that be a hoot.
/sarcasm.
Your sister. You worship her. You adore her. She abuses you. People tell me this is normal, but it's KILLING me, kiddo. She likes to call you BADAM. Sometimes she stands upstairs in her playroom and screams, "BAAAAAADAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMM!" You direct your little ears northward, scan the horizon, determine the direction of her voice, point your little booger-picker toward the stairs and scream "BLAAAAAFAAAAASHAMMMMMMMAAAAAAAADAAAAAAAAA!"
Translation: "MOM! GIT YER ASS OVER HERE AND TAKE ME TO MY SISTER! SHE NEEDS ME, NOW!"
I have never, ever, witnessed such extreme devotion. And I don't understand it, because as soon as we reach the top of the stairs, we're usually pelted by those freakin' pinkie-toenail sized Polly Pocket shoes and met with screams of, "GET OUT I NEED MY PRIVACY IN HERE!"
There was the time I caught her poking you in the eyeballs. "But I'm helping him, Mommy. I'm BLINKIN' him."
There was the time I caught her holding your head down as you tried to stand. "But I'm helping him, Mommy. He likes the floor."
There was the time I caught her trying to stick her toy drill in your mouth. "But I'm helping him, Mommy. He's got the yawnins and they're stuck in his mouth."
It's just a guess, but I think all this 'help' will someday involve extra trips to the ER.
And then those words trickle back from my memory:
"Heather, the day will come when you have children who behave exactly the same way YOU behave."
Man, I am freakin' screwed.
Happy Birthday to my Big Bumbleboy Handsomepants. Your cheery personality brightens every day we spend with you. I'm so very much looking forward to the upcoming year and watching in amazement as you overcome every obstacle Elizabeth shoves in your path. Together we'll rid the world of Polly Pocket shoe missiles.