32 Months of Crazy up in Here!

Little Bear,

Good grief, kid! Do you ever stop talking, flirting, destructing, licking, kicking, or laughing maniacally?  In a word, you are VIGOROUS. You play vigorously, you eat vigorously, you hug vigorously, and I swear you even make sleeping look like a full-contact sport.

You are now 32 months old, and 32 forms of awesomeness.

This past month has been C-R-A-Z-Y.  We went skiing. We went logging. You were in the world-famous Swallowfest parade.  We decorated Easter eggs, got all fancy for Easter service and participated in a couple of egg hunts. You went mountain biking for the first time. You started some serious potty training (Yay! I get to talk about pee and poop on my blog! Who am I kidding? I always talk about that sort of thing. BOOBIES!!)

The month got even crazier from there. On our way home from your Papa Bear and Nanny’s house, we hit a deer. No one was hurt, but it totaled the car. Now, when we get in the car you keep saying, “Deer should stay off the road. Deer stay in the DIRT!”  And I totally agree.  Hey deer, for the love of all things good…please stay in the dirt!

A few days later, your dad went down on his motorcycle. Again, we were very blessed, and he was ok. It was a good wake-up call for all of us. I was thinking Daddy was all magical and stuff for having never gone down in his many, many years of riding. It happens. This is why we wear helmets, SON. So quit whining and put on the proper gear when you ride your bike.

That same day, we bought a new car and the next day your daddy and I left for Mexico on a dive trip. PHEW! On the road to relaxation. Except…your mama has some anxiety issues. And leaving you behind for a week just about did me in.

Little Bear, you OWN me.

I feel naked when you’re not with me, and there’s an ache in my heart. Don’t get me wrong, we still had a blast. But we were constantly thinking about you, talking about you, showing everyone pictures and videos of you until they threatened to throw my camera in the ocean.

Your dad and I – two painfully frugal people – paid $5/minute to call you from Mexico. MORE THAN ONCE. Dude, if that isn’t a show of Crazy Love, nothin’ is ;)

When you say things like “Look at the beautiful trees, Mama. I just want to HUG them,” I feel like I have won in the game of life. When we get to daycare earlier than usual, and there isn’t the usual fanfare of tiny friends hugging you, helping you with your coat and shouting “Wopah’s here! Wopah’s here!” you look at me questioningly, and ask “Where my kids?” as if you’re The Fonz. It makes me laugh. I can give you a topic and you will make up a song about it. When I call you dude, or buddy, you say “No. I’m Mama’s BABY!” It melts my heart to hear that coming from my stretched out, skinned kneed, constantly growing boy.

You will always be my baby.

Little Bear, you make every day an adventure and you keep me my toes by switching back and forth between a sweet little dimpled cherub to a midget terrorist at record speed. There are very few things that make me happier than hearing you say “I love you, mama” in your sweet little voice, or hearing your laugh when I’m tickling or teasing you. You are the salve to my frazzled nerves. Which is weird because you’re also the cause of those frazzled nerves…but I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

I’m proud of you beyond measure and I love you to the moon and back, Roper.

Love,

Your Mama