Dear Henry,
You're adorable. And funny. And smart. But you can drive me crazy ten ways to Sunday. I love you more than anything, but there are some things about you that we need to work on together:
1. You're sticky. Filthy all the time. You lick car doors, and that's so unsanitary. When I was in college, your Mama was known for her displeasure of sticky children (just ask my sophomore year roommate). I just don't understand how I can constantly wipe you, wash you, and bathe you, and yet you are just one big sticky mess. Can we please make your next word be "soap"?
2. You're a freakin' Houdini. Why do you insist on hiding things all day long? And only the important things, too? How about instead of shoving the envelope with my paycheck in it under the couch (not to be found for at least three weeks), you shove some "current resident" mail under there? Also, it's very difficult to drive anywhere when you hide my car keys in your laundry hamper. And I don't even know how you got my credit card in the first place, or why you chose to put it in the Pitch Perfect DVD case, but not cool, Dude.
3. Why do you hit and kick? No, change that, whyyyyy do you hit and kick ME? You're shockingly strong and it hurts. The worst is while I'm changing your diaper. Your feet are at my boob level, and while they might cushion your thrashing feet, it's like my least favorite area to receive your kicks (well, except that one time you nailed me across the bridge of my glasses and I thought my nose was gonna fall off). But the worst of the worst? When you kick during a poopy change :: your feet flail into your disgusting mess and then smear it into whatever surface they hit next...usually my boobs. Ya jerk.
4. Let me help you out :: the word "off" means that a) the lights that are bright will get dark, b) the Thomas DVD that's playing will stop or c) the blanket that is covering you will no longer touch your body. So when you say, "off! off! off", and then throw a hissy-fit when one of those things actually happens, I kind of want slam my head against the wall. To you, "off" apparently means "on", "more", "less", "juice" and about ten other things. Only about once in every 15 times do you actually want something to be "off". If you could help me figure out when you mean which one, that'd be super.
5. Listen, I know you like flushing the toilet. I knew that even before the city worker came to our door a couple months ago "just to check on things" since our house got flagged for high water usage. The thing is, I would LOVE for you to wait to flush it until AFTER I'm done peeing. Hell, if you could wait out the in the hallway while I'm going, that would be even better. I haven't peed without the soundtrack of "MOM! MOM! MOM!" in a very long time :: even at three in the morning, it's like you can sense it, and you start yelling from your bed. Please, just give a girl some privacy. It's really not that exciting.
6. When you start repeating a word or phrase over and over and over again, I worry that I'm going to go all Van Gogh on myself and chop off my ears. Buddy - I hear you the first time. You don't need to ask for juice 254 times :: I'll get it. You don't have to yell "done!" at fifteen second intervals after you're done eating :: I'll wipe you down as soon as the rest of your family has finished their meal. And most recently, even if you chant "'urkey, 'urkey, 'urkey!" all afternoon, that inflatable turkey in our front yard isn't going anywhere, and it's certainly not going to come after you.
7. You're my little friend all day when we're at home together. You give great hugs and kisses, you say please, and you pick up your toys. Yet when we go out public, you become this little demon child. You lay down in the middle of crosswalks when you don't want to hold my hand. You scream in the store when you can't open the toys in the middle of the aisle. You do things that make me want to crawl in the deepest, darkest hole so that no one will know that you're with me. I just want everyone to see the sweet boy that I know you are, not the big hot mess you make yourself into when in company of other humans.
8. How do you do that limp noodle thing? How do you make it seem as if all your bones have dissolved and you're just a 35 pound puddle of goo? And how do you always know the exact right moment to do it so that I lose my grip on you (especially when trying to carry you while pushing the stroller and carrying the diaper bag and four shopping bags)?
8. How do you do that limp noodle thing? How do you make it seem as if all your bones have dissolved and you're just a 35 pound puddle of goo? And how do you always know the exact right moment to do it so that I lose my grip on you (especially when trying to carry you while pushing the stroller and carrying the diaper bag and four shopping bags)?
9. If you're not going to ride in the cart/stroller/wagon/Cozy Coup, then why do you consistently insist that we bring it? Mama doesn't really like pushing or pulling an empty vessel while simultaneously trying to run after you to stop you from running into oncoming traffic. I am also not a huge fan of waiting for you to push these vehicles. And by the way that you try to pull my hands off the handles, I know it must be suuuuuper annoying to you that I have to help you steer, but it's suuuuper annoying to me when I have to restock a shelve after you ram a cart into it or slyly try to fluff up shrubbery after you crash your stroller into it.
10. WE DO NOT STEP IN DOG POOP.
But don't worry, I somehow deal with all of those just to even get one of these:
1. You're so passionate. Your love for trains and buses and "arf arfs" has been so much fun to watch grow. You attach to things so intently and won't let them go. You share your trains with me. You give hugs to every dog you see. You ask to see more buses when we're on the road because you just can't get enough. I hope you keep those passions, and learn how to love a partner in the same ways some day.
2. The best parts of my day are when you want to read with me. You wake up in the morning and from your naps with a book in your hands. You've made your own little reading nook by your bed, and you fluff the pillows and tuck yourself in the blankets just so. I love that you relate to books, and that you equate them with comfort, relaxation and enjoyment. So do I.
3. I know that your stomach is smaller than my fist, but by the amount of cheese that you eat I don't know how that's physically possible. Cheese is my favorite food too, so it's nice that we can share that love. But never mind our obsession with dairy, I love how you SAY cheese. You see a camera or even a phone and you shriek, "cheeeeeeese!". You ham it up and you let us capture that handsome smile.
4. You have chubby knuckles. I love them. I love how you lace your little fingers into mine. You're going through a phase where you always want to hold my hand (except for when we're crossing the street or in a parking lot, of course) and it's awesome. I don't even care that my shoulder cramps up after about five minutes when you make me hold your hand from the driver's seat while we're in the car. Your chunky little hand is squishy and warm. I'll be so sad when you don't want to hold my hand anymore.
5. When I come home from anywhere, even if I've only been gone for five minutes to go to the corner store, you come running to the door like I've been gone for days. You scream my name, throw your arms around my leg and make me feel so lucky. I know it makes your Dad feel the same way when he comes home from work.
6. You have the best expressions. When you hear a train on the tracks down the road from our house, you drop whatever you're doing, whip your head around and go, "chhh! chhh! chhh!". When you toot, you smirk and say, "toooooo!" :: if you're in another room, you'll come into where we are and still announce it so proudly. When anyone burps, even discreetly, you giggle, open your mouth really widely and yell, "BAAAAAAAAAHHHHHRP!" I love it all.
6. You have the best expressions. When you hear a train on the tracks down the road from our house, you drop whatever you're doing, whip your head around and go, "chhh! chhh! chhh!". When you toot, you smirk and say, "toooooo!" :: if you're in another room, you'll come into where we are and still announce it so proudly. When anyone burps, even discreetly, you giggle, open your mouth really widely and yell, "BAAAAAAAAAHHHHHRP!" I love it all.
7. You've got amazing hair. There are copper strands in there that look just like mine, and I love how it curls up after your bath or when you get sweaty. Even when not wet, you have this great pompadour of curly-cues on the top of your head. You sit so nice and still when I brush it out so you don't look sloppy. And even when you have ketchup or syrup mashed in it, your hair still manages to smell like your sweet shampoo. You may be turning into more of blondie than a redhead these days, but I won't hold that against you. ;)
8. I cook a lot, and for the past few weeks the best part about cooking is when I hear you push a dining chair across the hardwood floors so that you can reach the kitchen counter to help. It's sweet how carefully you pour eggs into bowls. You look even more adorable with flour on your cheeks. I don't even care that you stick your chubby little fingers into every. single. ingredient. because you look like you're having so much fun :: there is such glee on your face when we turn on the mixer or lift the lid off a steaming pot. I can't wait to cook everything with you. I've showed you how to make Great-Grandma Fish's applesauce, but you still need to learn how to make Baba's chow mein, Great-Grandma Kelly's dumplings, Grandpa Kelly's gravy, and I'll teach you how to make a damn good cake.
8. I cook a lot, and for the past few weeks the best part about cooking is when I hear you push a dining chair across the hardwood floors so that you can reach the kitchen counter to help. It's sweet how carefully you pour eggs into bowls. You look even more adorable with flour on your cheeks. I don't even care that you stick your chubby little fingers into every. single. ingredient. because you look like you're having so much fun :: there is such glee on your face when we turn on the mixer or lift the lid off a steaming pot. I can't wait to cook everything with you. I've showed you how to make Great-Grandma Fish's applesauce, but you still need to learn how to make Baba's chow mein, Great-Grandma Kelly's dumplings, Grandpa Kelly's gravy, and I'll teach you how to make a damn good cake.
9. It was a tough, brutal, exhausting road to get here, but now you sleep like champion. I mean, I could sleep for 48 hours straight and probably still need a nap, but you meet me in the middle by sleeping until 8:00 or 8:30 each morning. I can't guarantee that I would like you as much if you got up at dawn every day (love you - yes. like you - debatable).
10. I love that when I look at you, I see your dad's eyes looking back at me. That when you act goofy and squish up your nose, you look just like your Auntie Maddie did when she was little. And that sometimes when I look at your pictures I can see your Uncle Joe or Uncle Andy, your Grandpa, and especially me. Your little ringlets are a visual reminder that you are a part of me, and I am a part of you. Sometimes I just stare at you while you push your trains around and think about how cool it is that you're this little person with traits that I helped give to you. It's been so awesome watching your looks and personality uniquely evolve, and yet be laced with your family.
10. I love that when I look at you, I see your dad's eyes looking back at me. That when you act goofy and squish up your nose, you look just like your Auntie Maddie did when she was little. And that sometimes when I look at your pictures I can see your Uncle Joe or Uncle Andy, your Grandpa, and especially me. Your little ringlets are a visual reminder that you are a part of me, and I am a part of you. Sometimes I just stare at you while you push your trains around and think about how cool it is that you're this little person with traits that I helped give to you. It's been so awesome watching your looks and personality uniquely evolve, and yet be laced with your family.
See? Just writing out the nice things made me forget about the first things.
Almost.
Love,
Mama
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