Big kid/little kid.

After a summer of collecting dust in the garage, I'd all but given up on Calvin riding his bike. He didn't like it, he didn't want to do it. And no amount of coaxing, pleading, or bribery could get him near it.

But then one afternoon in September he hopped on and took off — riding up and down the alley all by himself like the big kid he is.

Well, not entirely by himself.

For the record.

Hope you weren't expecting some great declaration. This is literally for my records. I can't be expected to hang on to a sheet of paper for the rest of his life, can I?

Calvin's four year stats:

Weight: 37lbs 9oz, 65th percentile
Height: 42 inches, 82nd percentile
Vision: 20/25 in both eyes
BMI: 29

He continues to be a year ahead in all areas except fine motor, where he's on par with kids his age.

For those who have been wondering and/or praying for us (thank you), Calvin's long-awaited eval appointment is next Wednesday. We're not entirely sure what to expect, but we hope this will be a positive first step for us and for him.

Check-up girls.

Calvin had his three year well child visit yesterday, and developmentally he's right on track...for a four and a half year old. Oh boy. But of course his mental acuity and emotional maturity are seriously misaligned, which explains a lot of the behavioral issues we've faced/continue to face. I foresee a long road ahead with this one...

His three year stats:

Height: 39.25 inches (85th percentile)
Weight: 34lbs (71st percentile)
Vision: 20/40 in one eye, 20/30 in the other
Hearing: Perfect (so no excuses for not listening to his mother)

Before bed last night, Calvin put his hand on my chest and said "Hey, Mom! Those check-up girls forgot to check your heart!"

Check-up girls = our pediatrician and her nurse.

He may not make parenting easy on me, but at least he keeps me laughing.

 

The last time.

I'm having a baby in six days.

If not sooner.

Wow.

It's hard for me to believe this pregnancy, which I'm positive will be my last, is about to come to an end. It makes me sad. I will miss feeling those kicks and squirms, watching my baby roll across my stomach, and the convenience of a built-in shelving unit on which to perch my evening snack. (And an excuse for having an evening snack. Every single evening.)

I will not miss my inability to breathe, walk normally, get into bed, roll over in bed, get out of bed, get into a chair, get out of a chair, sit longer than 20 minutes, stand longer than 20 minutes, or laugh without peeing. Not to mention the host of other physical side effects that shall remain undisclosed for both your sake and mine.

My mind has been racing these last few weeks. I'm trying to savor every second of this pregnancy while preparing myself for what's to come. But it's almost impossible to recall those sleepy newborn days with Calvin, who can construct a train track with ease and describe the plot of Up in painstaking detail. Even the part where "Mr. Fredrickson is sad because his Ellie gets died. She had to go to her house." Sweet boy.

He's so big. And as I fold and put away tiny pink onesies in nervous anticipation of our daughter's arrival, I wonder — was he ever this little?

He was, I know. A mere two and a half years ago I folded and put away tiny blue onesies in nervous anticipation of Calvin's arrival. But those early days with him are such a blur. Night after sleepless night. The nursing, the pumping, the bottles and blankets and burp cloths and blowouts. Was that really him? And us? And do I even remember how to do any of this?

I'm hoping it will come back to me without much effort. And that maybe this time, the last time, it won't go by so quickly.

Racket.

I don't think I ever posted this before, but last year Calvin had his first school photo taken.

Yes, that's right. They start school photos at age one now. Who knew? I didn't. Frankly, I was kind of appalled. And I certainly had no plans to purchase them, because that's just plain ridiculous. But that was before I saw this masterpiece:


Crazy hair? Check.
Bruises on side of face? Check.
Scar on his upper lip from falling head-first out of a play house? Check.
Beloved playmate in hand? Check.
One year old sitting on a pile of fake leather-bound volumes? Check.

$50 later, this sucker was mine.

This year, I wondered what kind of hilarity school photos had in store for us. Whenever I take out my camera, Calvin says "NO PICTURES" and runs away. Also, he's even more attached to his bear and its head doesn't look nearly as nice (or clean) as it did a year ago.

Imagine my surprise when I was presented with this truly adorable shot of my two-year-old at photo pick-up last night:


$50 later...

Yes, taking school pictures of children who are not yet school aged and then presenting them to their tired parents at the end of the work day along with a list of insanely inflated prices that are good for ONE DAY ONLY could be considered a bit of a racket.

But darn it's hard to put a price on cute.

Overheard.

Calvin talks now. Constantly. I'm not sure when he went from saying a few words to providing detailed explanations of everything he experiences, but it was quick. And I really wish I'd captured more of what he said in that sweet transitional time, because it was so precious.

Luckily it's still precious...and funny. So here are a few of our favorite Calvinisms of late:

Us: "Is your name Calvin John Buster?"
Cal: "I'm not a buster! I'm Calvin John Breyer!"
I think this question truly annoys him, though Nate and I find his reaction hilarious.

"Who bought this for me? You bought this for me? Geinchu, Mama, geinchu!"
Geinchu = thank you. One of the only things he pronounces incorrectly.

Anytime he's naked: "I'm a nude dude!"
Anytime we're naked: "You're a nude dude!" (Laughs and points.)

"Stinky skunk. STINKY SKUNK!"
He loves this phrase and says it over and over with Nate while giggling violently.

"I tooted. Excuuuuse me!" (While laughing hysterically.)
Yep. He's a boy.

"I can come snuggle in Mama's bed?"
He loves to watch cartoons in my bed on Saturday mornings when Nate's working.

"I'm just going to _________."
This is always said in a very reassuring voice, like whatever it is, it's fine and there's no room for argument. He loves the word "just."

"I'll be right back, okay? I'll be right back."
This almost always follows an "I'm just going to" statement.

"I play golf witchu, Daddy? You play a football game wit me?"
Insert any activity. He loves to play "witus" right now.

"What road is this?"
A daily question during our commute, which he usually answers himself: "52!"
Or in Nate's experience: "62!" (It's 52.)

"It's a beauuuutiful day! The sun is up..."
Often said while gesturing grandly toward the sky.

"It's sooooo pretty."
Nature, pictures, people. He loves to identify beauty.

"Hello? How are you? Good. Bye."
The exact conversation he has on my old cell phone at least 10 times a day.

"I WANT MY DADDY!"
When he's mad at me.

"I WANT MY MAMA!"
When he's mad at Nate.

"I WANT MY GRANDMA!"
When he's mad at both of us.

"I DON'T WANT ANYBODY!"
When he's mad at both of us and Grandma isn't available.

"I want fruit snacks in a bowl. Fruit snacks in a bowl, please!"
Every. Single. Day. And always in a bowl. Why, we do not know.

"Sure, sure! Yes, sure!"
An enthusiastic response to all questions having to do with toys or food.

"You bring me a special treat?"
I created a monster the first time I promised him one of those.

"Sorry for hitting you."
We hear this too often. At least he apologizes.

"My daddy's working at the big building. He's a good daddy. I miss him soooooo much." Often heard on nights when Nate's working at the hospital.

"Goodnight Mattie, I love you!"
Sweetly called out on his way up the stairs to bed.

"I just want to rock and sing more songs witchu, Mama. Just rock me, please."
Anytime I put him to bed before he's ready.

"You sleep well, Mama."
In response to my "sleep well, sweetheart."

"I love you, too."
The words every parent waits patiently to hear.

I LOVE this age.

He's still cute.

I know I haven't posted about Calvin much lately. But don't you worry: He's still cute. And growing. And two.

Oh, heavens, is he ever two.

I love this age. It's challenging on so many levels (mentally, since he can argue with me and asks questions constantly; physically since his tantrums often require me to pick him up and haul him off to the timeout chair; and emotionally, because my love for him becomes more complex and overwhelming every day), but it's really so much fun.

The questions are cute. The faces are cute. The imaginary play is cute. And he loves us right now, so much. All day long there are choruses of "Play a football game wit me, Daddy? Make a track wit me, Mama? I come too, Daddy! I bake witchu, Mama!"

He's so independent, so spirited, so loving. There's no shortage of smiles, giggles, or kisses. There's also no shortage of defiance, disobedience, or tantrums. But, as with every phase, the good seems to outweigh the bad. And the bad really isn't that bad. I don't know whether he's getting more predictable or I'm just getting used to having no control, but these days I feel much more capable of handling whatever he throws my way.

Literally and figuratively.

Two.

Happy second birthday to my precious Calvin. I love you, darling boy.

Payoff.

In the following video I am freshly showered with uncombed hair, no makeup and no bra, and I'm in my pajamas. I look terrible. Yet, I'm posting this on my blog for the world to see because it's too good not to. The things we do for our children.

May I present an excerpt from Bruce Degen's Jamberry, as "read" by my one-year-old?



We read through the entire 32-page book last night, and he could recite the lines from every. single. one. Nate recorded us reading through the whole book on my phone, but the file was too large to email so I had to clip it. I will just tell you that my jaw was hanging open almost the entire time.

Reading with your kids every single night since birth pays off. Don't let anyone tell you differently. The initial return on investment might just be a little boy who can memorize/recite a bunch of words, but the seed has definitely been planted.

I am one proud mama. And is his little voice cute or what?

I hold you.

That's what Calvin used to say when he wanted us to hold him. But that was weeks ago, back when he was small, and now he says "hold me!" because he's big and grown up and so so smart. He also says "I come, too!" while scrambling to collect his "guys" (Bear, Grinch, Dog, Snowman, Hop, Elmo, Cookie, Teddy, and Mickey — can't go anywhere without that motley crew) so he can tag along whenever one of us leaves the room. Every single item of clothing he owns, no matter how large, has been dubbed "tight." He's charmed his teacher with his many exclamations of "holy cow!" and any time we ask him where something or someone has gone, he says "MEXICO!" Which is then followed by a garbled "Adidios!"

At night he requests his favorite bedtime songs by name: "John" (Are You Sleeping), "Twinkle," "Sunshine" (You Are My Sunshine) and, recently, "Jesus" (Jesus Loves Me). He insists on choosing between his Pooh (daytime) or Mickey (overnight) diapers at every diaper change. Once I told him the sun goes to sleep at night, and now whenever the sun is setting on our drive home from daycare, he whispers "Shhhh...sun sleeping." He drags the step stool across the room and up to the kitchen counter and says "I help" whether I'm cooking dinner or doing dishes — and if there's something on the stove he insists on being held so he can watch it cook. He shakes his finger at Matilda and tells her "no no no no no!" when she sits next to his chair at dinner, hoping for a crumb or two. He is always game for a ride on the "train" — Nate's way of getting him to climb on his back for a trip down the stairs. Recently he ran over to climb on the train, wrapped his little arms around Nate's neck, popped a surprise Cheerio into Nate's mouth, and said "yum!"

And last night, despite my efforts to convince him otherwise, he slept with a spatula.

He's completely adorable. And exasperating. He wants to do everything himself. Make every decision, open and close every door, turn off every light, feed the dog, choose his snack, wash his hair, fill his sippy cup. The mere offer of help — without any physical action — results in a chorus of "No no no, Mama. No Mama, NO! I do it!" He vigorously waves me off, fearing I might take away his opportunity to show us how big, how smart, how independent he is. He's growing in every way possible, and he wants to be sure we notice.

As if I could miss it.

Car ride.

Yesterday, while driving to the mall.

Calvin, from the backseat: Cars!

Abby, driving: That's right. Lots of cars! How many cars do you see?

Calvin: One, two, three...

Abby: Good job, sweeti–

Calvin:...four, five, six....

Abby: Wow! Yes, that's right! Six car–

Calvin:...seven, eight, nine, ten!

Abby: Um, what?

----
Two minutes later.

Abby: Hi!

Nate, calling in response to Abby's page at work: Hey, what's up?

Abby: Did you know our child knows how to count to ten?

Nate: He does?

Abby: Yes! He just counted to ten. Like, counted ten cars on the road as we were driving!

Nate: Really?

Abby: YES! He's a genius! Our son is a genius! What are they teaching him at that school?

----
One minute later.

Calvin: Talking about. Talking about. Talking about.

Abby: What are you talking about?

Calvin: Dinos.

Abby: You're talking about dinos?

Calvin: Yeah.

Abby: What about dinos?

Calvin: Bad dinos. (A reference to the book Oh My Oh My Oh Dinosaurs!)

Abby: Oh, the dinos were bad? What did they do?

Calvin: Um...

Abby: Did they empty their mommy's recipe box onto the floor?*

Calvin: Yes. On the floor.

Abby: Oh? And what happened to the dinos when they did that?

Calvin: Um...time out!**

----
*Guess who pulled that neat trick earlier in the day?
**Guess what punishment was instituted after refusing to help pick them up? It took an hour, a time out, and a few tantrums, but those recipe cards got picked up and I was not the one to do it. Any doubt I had regarding the effectiveness of time outs at his age has certainly been erased, thanks to that little conversation. His genius is going to be his demise...

Playing catch up.

After taking an average of 200 photos of Calvin every month for the last year and a half, this month I've taken maybe 25. So that explains why it's the 27th of the month and I haven't posted a single picture of him. (Except for these, which don't count because they're reposted from last year.) While some of you may not care about seeing pictures of my kid, I know my Mom does — and I've noticed a sharp decline in the frequency of her comments this month. This serves to remind me, once again, that Calvin is the real draw, Nate and I are chopped liver, and no one really cares what kind of tights I'm wearing.

So this one's for you, Mom and Dad. And for my in-laws, who are lying on the beach in Mexico this week and next. A post dedicated entirely to photos of Calvin in January. He's pretty much wearing the same three outfits in all of them because I've only taken pictures of him that many times, but we all know my kid has more clothes than he knows what to do with.

With a mouth full of "pwetzels." Nate's mom gave me this awesome recipe for ranch pretzel sticks, and Calvin can't get enough. Last night, as I put him in bed (he was almost completely asleep) he said "pwetzels?" and then started crying when I said no.


I didn't think he could love his kitchen set more. That is, until he discovered his ability to "cut things" (wooden bread and vegetables with velcro in the middle).



I made this adorable dinner one night, consisting entirely of his favorite foods (ketchup on the side of course, no meal is complete without "dip" these days).


And was rewarded with his "meh" face, and a demand for more hot dogs.


Standing up in his chair during dinner. I'm not sure taking photos of his bad behavior is the best way to discourage him from doing it again, but whatever.


The Cozy Coupe's return on investment is immeasurable. Nary a day goes by without Calvin and all of his "guys" (I think he sleeps with eight stuffed animals now, plus a pillow?) piling in for a ride around the dining room table.


Watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. He settled into that sweet look/setup all on his own.



This face captures Calvin perfectly right now.


And so does this one.


Love my big boy dearly and can't believe he'll soon be two!

Good/Bad.

Turns out I have no idea what I'm doing with this whole parenting thing.

Shocking.

My usually sweet child has turned into a part-time hellion. This weekend he started throwing full-blown toddler tantrums. Of course I have no clue how to handle this kicking/screaming/crying/hitting/headbutting/total desperation thing he's got going on, because like everything else he's thrown my way over the course of the last 18 months, I haven't gotten to that part of the book yet.

Really, it's humbling. As soon as I start to feel an ounce of pride in my parenting skills, he enters a new phase of terrible that knocks me on my rear. What's that old adage about pride and falling...?

On the flip side, he's suddenly saying well over 100 words. And a few phrases, such as "I did it!" "I don't know!" "I cook!" "Bye, Mama (or Dada, Mattie, Nana, truck, etc.)." He's pretty much repeating everything we say and whipping out new and unexpected words left and right. My favorite? He's started telling us when he poops. "Poop, Mama. I did it!" Funny, funny boy.

Seems to me each phase brings both good and bad. Newborns are sweet and cuddly and unable to move, but they keep you up all night. And 18-month-olds are adorable and smart and sleep all night, but they are also opinionated and embarrassing and disobedient.

Such fun.

For kicks, here are Cal's 18-month stats:

Weight: 26lbs, 13oz (63rd percentile)
Height: 33.5 inches (85th percentile)
Head: Big (90th percentile)

Also for kicks, a photo April took while she was visiting. I love his curls in this one. He might look just like his Daddy, but he's got a bit of his Mama in him, too.


I don't love the tantrums, but I sure love the boy who throws them...

18 months.

Before bed each night, Calvin and I pray together. And almost always, mid-prayer, I burst out laughing at the thought of something funny he did or said that day. I end with a giggly thanks to God for the joy Calvin brings to our home.

I think joyful is the best description of life with Calvin. There's plenty of frustration in parenting a toddler, of course. But the overwhelming feeling I have each and every night as I laugh and play and talk and read with my son is joy. He delights me. His enormous smile, his silly antics, his narration of our daily activities. His vocabulary, which has taken off like a rocket these last few weeks, is endlessly entertaining. I know it will get old at some point, but right now I could listen to his excited "Mama! Mama! Mama!" all day long.

Yesterday I let him "help" me put together my Thanksgiving centerpiece, which led to tiny broken pieces of angel vine all over my floor. He reluctantly helped me pick it all up and put it in a Target bag, only to dump it all back out on the floor when I wasn't looking. When I asked him where the bag went, he threw his hands up, shook his head, and said "I don't know!"

I've been trying to teach him to use "please" when he needs something. We're working on the sign (rubbing in a circular motion over your heart) because even though he knows how to say the word, he just hasn't been able (or willing?) to put two and two together. So after scarfing down a few fruit snacks yesterday, he came to me asking for more. He signed and said "more!" and I asked him to say please. Instead of saying it, he started rubbing all over his body, desperately. Like "Oh no, which one is it? I know it involves rubbing...here? No? Here? No? C'mon, Mom! I'm trying! How about I just start clawing at my neck??"

There are a number of books he loves right now (and that we read over and over and over and over...I've started hiding books in the chair cushions when he's not looking) including Chicka Chicka Boom Boom, Big Red Barn, New Socks, and Teeth Are Not For Biting. Each of these stories has an expression he anxiously waits to say — in Chicka Chicka Boom Boom he says "Oh nooooo!", during Big Red Barn he says "Mooooooooooooo" when he sees the cow and "Dog! Dog! Dog!" when he sees the dog, in New Socks he says "WHOA!" when the character goes flying across the wood floor, and in Teeth Are Not For Biting he likes to smile and say "CHEEEEEESE!" at the end.

He's also begun offering hugs as repentance. Last week he relapsed and bit another child at daycare. The incident report always outlines how they dealt with the situation, and on this one they wrote "give hugs." This weekend I noticed any time Calvin did something naughty and was caught, he would smile brightly and say "hugs!" and lean in to hug the offended party — me, Matilda (not interested), the book he tossed across the room, etc.

He's smart, this child of mine. He is also charming, mischievous, silly, independent, stubborn, loyal, endearing, and loving. I don't think I've met another kid who willingly gives as many hugs and kisses as he does (which has led us to wonder if he'll turn into that creepy guy who tries to give everyone back rubs...we'll work on that.). While he's inherited an noticeable blend of traits from the two of us, Calvin has a BIG personality that's all his own. What a blessing it's been for us to watch him grow from helpless infant to independent toddler these past 18 months.

Parenting Calvin is not and will not be easy. He challenges me in a million different ways every day, and he's not even three feet tall yet. But the joy he brings to our family and our home is indescribable.

And what's joy without a little suffering?

Mil.........k.

Mr. Bub is growing like a weed. I'm pretty sure he gets taller, faster and much more mischievous by the hour. Which is all fine and good — for the most part, we're keeping up. I attribute this to our excellent parenting skills and also to Baby Gap's adjustable waist pants. Without which we'd be up a creek, since he is longer than he is wide and only gets taller and skinnier every day.

While I'm amazed by his physical achievements of late, the verbal ones have blown me away. I was in Cleveland last weekend for what, two days? Somehow in that incredibly short amount of time he managed to learn all sorts of new things.

He learned how to say "milk" and "book" – both of which have a long wait between the first part of the word and the k. As in Mil.......k! Boo.......k!

He pointed to a door and said "door!" He pointed to my nose and said "nose!" He pointed to my phone and said "baby!" (Don't worry, it makes sense. My screen saver is a photo of baby Calvin.)

He put two words together at dinner on Monday night: "More milk!" (Hoping to add a "please" to that phrase shortly.)

He's started using "yes" and "no" appropriately.

He's begun attempting just about every word we ask him to say — which he wasn't doing a week ago.

And finally, during my incredibly moving rendition of the ABCs Sunday night, he started making hand motions. So I went back and started again....and he did them again. I think they must be teaching him to sign the alphabet at school, because I have no other explanation for that. Unless he was just waving wildly at me to shut up...?

I'll admit to feeling pretty put out over being the second person to witness these milestones (if you can even call them that). I believe my exact response was "WHY IS HE DOING ALL THESE NEW THINGS WITHOUT ME I WAS ONLY GONE FOR TWO DAYS I CAN'T BELIEVE I MISSED IT NOT FAIR NOT FAIR!" To which Nate coolly replied, "Really? You haven't seen any of that before? He's been doing it for a while now."

It's true, what they say. Mom puts in all the work and gets none of the glory.

(I kid, Nate. You're an amazing hands-on dad and have clearly imparted great wisdom on our child. Perhaps I should leave town more often. Say, two weeks from now?)

It's been really fun to witness these changes in our sweet little boy. Never thought I'd say this (and I'm sure I'll retract this statement within the next month), but I'm loving loving life with a toddler. I'm not loving the tantrums and biting issues (I jinxed myself yesterday, btw — but it was minor and didn't require an incident report. His teacher said things are going much better.), but this is definitely my favorite phase of parenting so far.

I say that about every phase, of course...

Breakthrough.

Calvin and I have the same talk every morning before I leave for work. Today's went a little something like this:

Abby: "Okay, Calvin. Mom has to go to work now. Remember, no biting at school today! No biting! We do not bite our friends. Biting hurts."

Calvin: *gives Mom a big hug*

Abby: "Calvin, do we bite our friends at school? Do you bite Mommy's finger?" *holds up finger*

Calvin: "NO!" *kisses finger*

Abby (to Nate): "Wait- did he just say no? And use it appropriately in a sentence? Like, in response to my question? IS HE BEGINNING TO UNDERSTAND??"

Holy crap, I hope so. I'll let you know in about four hours.

One for the baby book.

We've entered a new phase. One that, to the trained ear, sounds something like this:

"Oh HECK no, I am NOT getting naked and lying on that table because I JUST KNOW that woman is going to do something terrible to me NO NO NO NO NO WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Calvin seems to have the whole doctor's office = pain thing figured out now, because he was less than agreeable when it came to sitting on the examination table yesterday. But we muddled through with some love from Bear and a handful of goldfish crackers.

Little dude is now 24lbs 13oz (55th percentile) and 33 inches tall (93rd percentile).* And he's off the charts developmentally. Like, literally. They give me the same chart at every well baby visit and ask me to check off the things he's doing. It only goes up to 21 months, and he's doing everything on the chart. So I'm not really sure what he's supposed to do next, but I'll be on the lookout because I'm sure it will be something totally awesome like sitting in a chair unassisted.

He really is just changing and growing in unbelievable ways — running and jumping and talking and learning new things every day. Our baby is now a full-fledged toddler, and Nate and I are just eating it up. He is a total delight.

And quite cute, if I do say so myself.


*Someday these really-boring-to-everyone-but-me posts are going to come in handy, I just know it.

Stat.

Since this is really just a glorified baby book (sorry about that), better add Calvin's one year stats before I forget.

Height: 31 inches (75-90th percentile)
Weight: 24lbs (60th percentile)
Head: 18.75 inches (75th percentile)

He's done with bottles, fully transitioned to milk, and growing like a weed. And, according to his pediatrician, functioning at closer to an 18 month level.

I think I'm supposed to be proud of him for that, but really all it means to me is that I missed out on six months of preparation for the crazy behavior he's exhibiting.

Eleven down, one to go.

I forgot to commemorate Calvin turning 11 months last week. It's the beginning of the end, my friends. Any/all subsequent kids will be lucky if I remember to acknowledge their actual birthdays.

So...11 months. Yikes. I am feeling very emotional about all of this growing up business, so I am just going to post a few pictures of Calvin looking kind of serious (what, is this like the angsty teenage phase of the first year?) and call it good. I'll save the mushiness and waterworks for next month.

Walk this way.