Category Archives: Letters to Roper

May 20, 2013 · 3:12 pm

Forty-four

DSCN0433Dear Roper,

You want a brother. You want to know how babies get in ladies’ bellies. You’re absolutely furious that you can’t grow a mustache. Some days you’re scared of your underpants. You want to swing higher than physics allow, and laugh hysterically when I can’t keep up with you on foot when you’re riding your bike. You’re hungry – always so hungry. You want to know what bees eat. When it’s chilly outside you instruct me to call the Fire Department and tell them to warm it up.

DSCN0424For a week you sported a giant tattoo that said “bookish” which I adored because I grew up with my nose in a book. You were so proud of that tattoo and showed it to everyone. It left a HILARIOUS tan line.  You planted a flower bulb in preschool and sang to it the whole way home, coaxing it to grow and promising it water and sunshine. When we go to a park, you’re a little reserved at first and then make fast friends telling them, “You’re so cool,” “You did a really good job,” and, “Be careful, I don’t want you to get hurt.” You can now ride a pedal bike!

I am so proud of the creative, courageous and kind Little Man you’re becoming.

You are starting to look a little more like your dad, but you’ll always be my Mini Me. You know you can crack me up by saying, “Don’t let the beat mmmmmmm….drrrrrOPP!” in Beastie Boys style. You manipulate me with your ability to make me laugh. You manipulate me, period.

P1060865You can write your name. We had no idea – you kept coming home from preschool with artwork signed by a very shaky hand, but we assumed your teachers were helping you because you wouldn’t draw so much as a circle for us. And then I offered to write your name on Oma’s Mother’s Day card. You became enraged and yelled, “I CAN DO IT MYSELF!”  And you did. You wrote your name very clearly on that card and everything else you can get your hands on.

You love to wrestle. Violently.

You are growing tall and your legs are long. I think you’ll take after your mama and earn the nickname “bird legs” by the time you hit elementary school. One morning you told me, “I growed up to be a man last night. I just did that.” I thought you meant that you grew taller overnight, but you were using it as a negotiation tool. “So I can have fire, Mama? Just a little bit of fire?” No, Little Bear, not even a little bit.

You are honest. Brutally honest. When your dad sang a little song for you in the car you announced, “That was a really terrible song, Dad. Awful.” And after I had a particularly difficult day and your dad was comforting me by reminding me of all the people who love me, you sidled up to me and (very creepily) whispered in my ear, “Your mom is dead.” Ummmm…NOT HELPFUL.

DSCN2107For all of your rough and tumble, you are equal parts tender and perceptive. You worry about people. One day after leaving Papa Bear’s house you said, “Papa Bear doesn’t have a friend up at the house. He doesn’t get to have Nanny anymore, so he’s lonely. Maybe Nanny will get better and come back from heaven.”  OK, so it’s possible that you misunderstood the whole Easter/resurrection thing and applied it to everyone in general. But it is so incredibly sweet to hear that you’re thinking about other people and how they might be feeling.

And you don’t have to worry about Papa Bear – he has YOU as his little buddy.

You are resilient and adaptive and have handled all of the crazy changes in our lives with far more grace than I have. You and your dad were bachelors for two weeks while I was in Africa, and then you spent time with both grandpas while Daddy and I were in Belize. Although it causes me great anxiety to leave you for any length of time, you are so blessed to have such amazing role models in your life.

2013-03-06 12.17.37However, with our parenting, you pretty much have ZERO chance of fitting in at school (in our defense, we’ve started a therapy fund). When we’re home alone, I raise you on a steady diet of Janis Joplin and Elmore James. You’ve picked up your dad’s weird Tobyisms, you think it’s OK to fart on people, and you use gigantic words that no three-year-old should use. You are so completely, emphatically and defiantly YOU. And although I could do without the defiant part, I hope you never completely tame that personality of yours. It’s a keeper – just like you.

I love you, Little Bear. To the moon and back, times infinity. Plus a little more each and every day.

Love,

Your Mama

P1060488

8 Comments

Filed under Letters to Roper

Tagged as , , ,

February 4, 2013 · 3:47 pm

Forty-one

P1060354bDear Roper,

You are now forty-one months old. How on earth did that happen?! I am only writing to you every few months now. Although you provide enough high jinks and antics to warrant a letter every WEEK, I would rather be participating in the awesomeness than writing about it. And yes, sometimes that “awesomeness” would be better described as “time in the trenches”.

Your spirited personality has not changed over time, only amplified.

We’ve had a rough couple of months, Little Bear. Your beloved Nanny (my mom)  suffered cardiac arrest in the early morning of November 29th and passed away on December 7th.  It was unexpected and devastating and tore my heart apart in grief. She left us as she would have chosen, but way, WAY too early.

P1060046You are too young to fully understand death (I’m not sure I even do) but I did my best to involve you in the transition, while shielding you from the scary stuff. We were very straightforward with the facts. You visited the hospital waiting room almost every day while Nanny was in the ICU and we talked about how she was in a coma and not waking up. When she was taken off life support you chose to come in to say goodbye to her, and you climbed up on a chair so you could kiss her arm and cheek. You attended Nanny’s memorial and participated in some of the planning and many of the discussions.

Although you don’t entirely understand what has happened, I hope that as you get older you will have these memories to knit together. You will know that you were part of the process. My Grandma Bee (Papa Bear’s mama) died when I was four, so I know what it’s like to have confused memories and to be cheated out of having an amazing woman in my life.

You will probably experience the same thing.

Please know that your Nanny loved you with all of her heart. I feel so blessed that she got to know you, know your personality, and spend so much time with you. She was so proud of you, Roper. And in awe of your strong-willed character – I think you guys would have gone toe-to-toe quiet often through the years. I want you to know that she loved you, that when you weren’t together she was thinking about you and buying you presents, and that she got a kick out of telling stories about you.

P1030314Rarely a day goes by that you don’t mention Nanny. You ask about why she’s gone, where she is, if she’ll wake up again and if she can see you. We look at pictures and I tell you that she’s in heaven and that she’s your little angel, and that she will always be in our hearts. I tell you that it’s OK to be sad, but it’s also OK to be happy. That we should celebrate her as much as possible.

It’s been brutal. You’ve seen your mom mourn, rage, weep (ahem…ugly cry) and sometimes raise emotional walls that even you can’t get through. Your schedule was completely upended and you didn’t get to spend much time with me while Nanny was in the hospital and while we were planning her service.

In addition, your mama has been fighting unrelenting health issues and Daddy’s building project at Hootin’ Holler came to a standstill (yes, there is a reason I kick the backhoe every time I get near it). All of this has to be unnerving – our home has not been the nurturing, safe haven I so desperately strive to provide for you.

But I am proud of the amazingly resilient little man you’ve become.

8290101466_cef0e1e017_bYou and your forcefully full-of-awesome personality compelled us to be festive through the holidays. It was such a blessing to have to work toward your excitement about Christmas, decorations, presents, gingerbread houses, and yes, your Elf on the Shelf. You got to spend time with Big Monkey, Auntie C, Super Kate and Austintacious.  You helped run the Christmas Tree Farm and were Papa Bear’s little buddy. You brought the Christmas spirit to us and you owned it. And we love you all the more for it.

Thank you, sweet boy.

For Christmas, we got you a kitten. And then we felt so bad for taking the kitten from its litter mates that we adopted its brother. We are now the proud (and somewhat stressed out) owners of Stumpy and Jax, who are adorable, friendly and completely insane. They fit this family perfectly. You love them both so ferociously that I question their ability to survive you. You bathe with them, rub their face on them, pet them into the ground and sometimes I catch you lying on them. We had to create a new rule stating that whatever you do to the cats, we can do to you. You don’t like this rule.

P1060260Quotes from recent months:

-        “Whatevs” peppers your conversation like a thirteen-year-old girl.

-        “40,000” or “40 pounds” That’s what time it is. Always.

-        “Do tigers live under our house, too? Why do we only get ants?” Tigers would be cooler than ants, but also a tad imposing.

-        “I can’t grow up anymore. I’m stuck. I’ve grown up so fast and I DON’T want to pop.” Valid concern, kiddo.

-        “Can you get a penis at the penis store? I want you to be the same as Daddy and me.” This is still a NO.

-        “I’m just choking.” Said whenever you’re joking.

-        “You’re my sweet girl and I’m Spider Man and I’ll keep you safe.” Said after I asked you to keep an eye out for deer while we were driving home from Papa Bear’s house.

-        “Papa Bear is the coolest guy in the whole world.”  You know what you like…and you like Papa Bear. You also pathetically cry out for him whenever you’re in trouble. You know he’ll always be on your side.

-        “He smells so yummy. I want to eat him up in my tummy like he’s dinner. He’s yummers in my tummers. He’s also my best friend.”  About Jax, who mostly smells like the litter box.

-        “Mama, you have two options…” You’re constantly giving me “two options”, neither of which I like. Which is probably how you feel all the time.

-        “I don’t like Alfie.” Referring to your Elf on the Shelf who tells Santa when you’re naughty or nice.  Apparently, you aren’t keen on that sort of accountability.

-        “He’s just telling me he loves me. That’s all.” Referring to the cat’s mewling when you’re squishing him.

I’ve become proficient at picking locks. You like to lock yourself in Mama and Daddy’s room and DESTROY it. You take all the hangers out of the closet, throw dirty laundry and garbage all over the floor, and throw all of the books and magazines on the bed. The worst part is that you usually lock the cats in the room with you. And you scare them. You scare the poop out of them.

Dude, you made one of them poop in my bed. Not that you haven’t done that yourself.

20130106_133543Roper, it’s been a crazy several months. You learned to ski!! I threw out my shoulder with my overenthusiastic fist pumping just now. You rode the trolley. We made many, many loops around town that day. Hanne visited us from Denmark. You went trick-or-treating and participated in Turkey on the Run. We found out that you are MUCH better at preschool than I am. Seriously, if you don’t graduate from high school it will be because I couldn’t read the instruction correctly, or you were in jail at the time. Equally likely.

You went through a phase of BAing me in public. While wrestling with Daddy and me, you pulled a steak knife.  You like to wake me up by throwing things at my head. One time I hid behind the staircase and shouted “boo!” as you came around the corner. You punched me in the nose. Roper, you have unbelievable instinct and an ability to sense weakness and attack. You give your mama hell. Your focus, willfulness and tenacity will serve you well in the future. Right now, it just exhausts me.

baby roperBut underneath your quick reflexes and unparalleled stubbornness is the sweetest boy I’ve ever met. Your capacity to love people and animals, so wholly and fully, amazes me. We could all learn from you. Little Bear, I love you with a ferocity and depth that takes my breath away. If someone told me on that first day I was finally allowed to hold you (hooked to all those machines and looking like the tough little guy that you are) that I could ever love you more than at that moment, I wouldn’t have believed them. But I do. I love you to the moon and back, times infinity. And then a little more each and every new day.

Love,

Your Mama

P1050939

5 Comments

Filed under Letters to Roper

Tagged as , , , ,

September 9, 2012 · 4:56 pm

OMG, He’s THREE!

Dear Roper,

Congratulations – you just completed your third trip around the sun! You are now 36 months old. (Editor’s note: you’re now 36 months AND A WEEK …. your mama is a slacker)  You have brought so much joy, laughter and love into our lives. But it’s been a wild ride. Possibly three of the craziest years of my life. Not just because of you – although you’ve added your share of crazy – but because we’ve had so many other big things going on in our lives. Like building a house, dealing with major health issues, and trying to keep our marriage from derailing in the chaos.

Through all of the bumps and hiccups along the way YOU help keep us on target. Having you in our lives reminds us to look beyond ourselves and remember what’s important. The other day, after your dad said “no” to one of your many requests, you came and asked me the same question. I said no as well and you asked, “Why you say no, too? Why are you and Daddy a team?” That’s right, your dad and I are on the same team. And we’re ready to paint our faces and wave foam fingers if that’s what it takes to win.

Some days I view raising you as an extreme sport. You, my sweet, sweet boy, can be quite a handful. You are smart, strong-willed and wild. We can’t tire you out. We take you for miles-long bike rides or hikes, and you will come home even more energetic. At times, you appear to be vibrating with excess energy and personality. And then you bust out dance moves, air punches and somersaults. Yes, even in the tub.

You speak like a five-year-old. From the backseat you will ask, “Why are there so many bad drivers?” You wander upstairs and say, “I just came up to see if you need any help.” When your dad physically removes you from whatever destruction you were dispensing you howl, “Ohhhhhh, my poor little heart! My poor little heart!”  When you’re done with a breathing treatment (which you run yourself) you give a big sigh and say “Phew! THAT was hard work.”

You also speak like the newly minted three-year-old that you are with your, “I toot-toot on your face! HAHAHA!” and your, “Macaroni, applesauce, poopy diaper! Haaaaa! Did you hear that? Poopy diaper! That’s FUNNY!” And then you do a little dance where you stick out your bum-bum out and shake it while pointing at it.

THAT. That’s why we don’t take you out in public as often these days.

Little Bear, you have put the smackdown on several big milestones in the last month. You’re now fully potty trained – you don’t even wear a pull-up at night!  The first night we decided to let you go commando, we weren’t really thinking. You had dinner at your Oma and Opa’s house where you proceeded to drink seventeen liters of juice while I wasn’t looking. Yikes. You woke up in the middle of the night and proceeded to complete an obstacle course (in pitch dark) that would make the Warrior Dash look tame. When you finally reached the bathroom, you couldn’t reach the light. You came into our bedroom, flicked on our light and stood there starting at us with the intensity of a man who had given his all to climb a mountain, only to realize it was a false summit.

Dude. You’re a camel. We could see how desperate you were by the look in your eyes, but also by the little trail of dribbles that marked your earlier path. When we finally got you on the toilet you peed for approximately twenty-seven minutes. Bravo, my man. BRAVO. You have gone commando every night since without any accidents.

You gave up your binky! You were given your first binky when you were less than a day old and putting in your time in the NICU. We spent the next two years trying to get you to go without it for two minutes so we could take a picture of you without that thing stuffed in your face. Eventually, we were able to get you to only use it while sleeping…and then we started cutting them. You alternated between thinking this was a cool “big boy” thing, and thinking we were trying to snuff out your will to live. For months we talked about how three-year-olds don’t use binkies. Apparently that worked because you gave them up for good a few days before your birthday. Did I mention that three-year-olds also clean toilets? No? Well, they do.

You quit taking naps. Also known as Your Worst Idea Ever. You’ll take a nap for anyone except me. Do you have a death wish, SON? I have explained to you many times over that I am an unlikely mom and need a little of my own time when I can work, use my brain, and engage in the world. Do. Not. Take. This. From. Me.  I think we’ve come to an agreement about you taking a little afternoon quiet time in your room…sometimes you accidentally fall asleep. And I strut around the house beating my chest and shouting “THAT. JUST. HAPPENED!” Except I don’t shout because I don’t want to wake you. I just mouth the words with exaggerated emphasis.

You started a new preschool. We camped at the property. You had a weekend with Papa and Nanny. You went to Hood Canal with the whole herd of Steere (minus your mama and daddy because we were visiting the happiest place on earth – Whistler Bike Park). You spent a fun-filled day down at Crescent Bar. You caught another fish and collected more cars. You were celebrated by both sides of your family on your birthday – you are so loved!

It’s been an adventure, Little Boy – the past month, the past year, the whole ride. And I would not trade in one single moment. Yes, I complain about your stubbornness and poke fun at your temper, but I would much rather have a spirited child than a passive child. I love you when you’re furious and manipulative, and when you’re sweet and hilarious. I love every bit of you from your fuzzy white-blond hair down to your adorably filthy toes.  I love you ALWAYS. And that will never change.

I’m so blessed and honored to be your mama, Little Bear. I can’t wait to see what the next year brings – what you’ll learn and what you’ll teach us. I think about your future and can’t help but smile. Thank you for bringing all of your joy, energy and upheaval into our lives. And for putting up with our cuddles and kisses when you really just want to PLAY.

Love,

Your Mama

1 Comment

Filed under Letters to Roper

Tagged as , , ,

August 6, 2012 · 5:37 pm

Thirty-five Months of BUSY

Dear Roper,

You’ve now been pinballing around this world for thirty-five months. Every night your dad or I ask you about your day and you answer, “I played and played and played and took a big, BIG nap!”  I aspire to be you, kid.

Little Bear, not only is your daily schedule ridiculously awesome, but this past month has been a carnival, custom designed for you! It started with a visit from Boo over the Fourth of July. You thoroughly enjoyed (once you warmed up to the idea) racing through the fountains at the splash pad, being chased by Boo. We watched the fireworks from Walla Walla state park and you were an enthusiastic contributor to the “oohs” and “ahhhs” in the crowd. Before the fireworks started, we were admiring the fat orange (still your most favoritest color EVER) moon.

BOO: Look at the big orange moon, Roper.

YOU: [sigh] I wish I could sit on that big, orange moon.

Me too, buddy.

Dude. You have an incredibly sensitive sniffer. You get this from me. As soon as your dad walks in the door I can tell what he had for lunch. You LOVE sniffing things and are constantly saying, “I smell something! What’s that?”

It’s safe to assume it’s your dad.

Up until this month, you referred to pinecones as “Christmas pineapples.” It’s all downhill from here – you’re growing up. Pretty soon you’ll realize that I can’t open garage doors with the power of my mind, the turtle didn’t eat the last pack of fruit snacks and that smell didn’t originate from your dad.

You’re in the preschool class now. Every time I drop you off your teacher tells me how stubborn you are. That everything you do has to be on your terms. But it’s a quiet stubborn – you’re good natured about it. AWESOME. The teacher is describing your dad to a tee. Now I have two of you to contend with. You guys are lucky you’re both cute!

The other day I told you “no” to something. I don’t remember what – the answer to most of your requests is no because a) we don’t own a fire extinguisher and b) our ER copay is ridiculous. You told me, “Mama, don’t say no to my heart. It’s fragile.”

What the what? You’re still TWO. Where do you come up with these things?

When I told you to pick up your toys and you responded, “Don’t talk to me like that, it’s bad for my energy.”  Am I sharing the apartment with a swami? Do I need to get you a crystal to sleep under?

Oscar and Tara visited us the weekend after the Fourth of July and you boys participated in the Crescent Bar parade. We hit the dollar store and covered your bikes with streamers, your necks with beads and your helmets with balloons. THIRD PLACE FOR BEST COSTUME, YO!  You guys rocked it – you won a medal and were mentioned in the local paper. You had so much fun hanging out with Oscar – it was a riot to watch you two play together!

You also got to play with all of the Steere cousins and extended family. A bunch of cousins from the Collins’ side of the family came over to Hog Hollow for a weekend of chaos and laughter. You even got to ride the miniature train at a birthday party.

You are surrounded by really fun, good people, Roper.

We took a family trip to Slidewaters with Papa and Nanny and you learned to cycle the little slides all on your own. We’d wait at the bottom and you’d run up the hill and come barreling down the slide with your goofy I’m-super-proud-of-myself-but don’t-want-anyone-to-know-it look on your face.  Little Bear, I am so proud of you! You keep taking on more and more responsibility and really running with it.

Your cousins Super Kate and Austintacious are visiting here from D.C. You play so hard with them that it’s exhausting just to watch – I love it. You and I joined Papa, Nanny, Kate and Austin at Pearrygin Lake to camp. Did you know your dad used to camp at Pearrygin Lake all the time? It was cool to experience a little slice of his childhood with you.

You and your cousins biked a little loop by the camp site. Part of the loop was uphill and had a hose running across it, and Austin would sometime get stuck there and not be able to start again (he’s on training wheels).  Each time, you would follow him and try to push his bike with your front tire, and then lay your bike down so you could push your cousin over the hose and up the hill. You’d watch to make sure Austin kept his momentum, and then race back to your bike, get on it and start the whole process again. I was so proud when a neighboring camper stopped by to ask about your age and marvel at your problem solving skills.

Your sense of teamwork is impeccable at times and you’ve really been showing an interest in being helpful. You even helped me make a bike trail at the property! This might be the first time I’ve ever understood why people have more than one kid…

Your picture ran in the Wenatchee World. The amount of press you get in this town is approaching obnoxious. Little Bear, there is something about you that captures people.

You’re usually too busy playing to cuddle. If you show any indication of wanting snuggle, our first assumption is that you’re getting sick. Your dad says you’re like me – as cuddly as a porcupine. But occasionally you find yourself “full of kissies” and feel the need to make out with me. This always seems to happen when we’re in public and you become obsessed with kissing me. In a word, AWKWARD.

But I know it’s a fleeting moment that will become even rarer with time, so I savor it.

It’s like those rare moments when you decide to “sleep in a sunbeam like a kitty” and lie still on the carpet, in a sunbeam, looking at peace with the world. I love seeing you in all of your different moods, experiencing the world and trying to find your way in it. You are learning and growing so fast that it makes my head spin.

You’re the coolest sidekick around, Little Bear. Your huge personality can be a challenge and I see a lot of disagreements in our future, but I wouldn’t trade that for anything. I love every bit of you, sweet boy. With a ferocity that only a mama could muster.

Love,

Your Mama

2 Comments

Filed under Letters to Roper, Parenting, Roper

July 3, 2012 · 8:26 pm

Thirty-four and NOT a bore

Dear Roper,

Sweet boy. You are a little shoehorn, stretching my heart more and more each day. You remind me of what is important in life. You also remind me that I should never use salty language in front of you because you will repeat that choice phrase – verbatim and at peak volume – while tearing around the grocery store.

I’m sorry for hiding in the ice cream aisle and pretending you were not mine.

You had a big month, buckaroo. Your Papa Bear and Nanny took you to a fishing derby and you caught a 5.5lb trout! I would show you a picture, but your grandparents DON’T BELIEVE IN CAMERAS. However, we did get to eat the trout. It was trout-y.

You also went to the theater to watch Madagascar 3 on the big screen and you were completely and adorably enamored. Personally, I enjoyed the fact that you’re too small for the seat and it kept folding up and trying to eat you. And guess what? I (gasp!) bought you a DVD. I thought it was time you saw the movie Cars since you’re so enamored with Lightning McQueen and Tow Mater on your underpants. I don’t normally let you watch much, but I kind of have a crush on Tow Mater, too.

Dude. DUDE. You are bursting at the seams with personality. We will be walking through a store and you will spontaneously do a running-start somersault in the middle of the aisle. First off….AWESOME! Also, OUCH.  Those floors are hard. But it doesn’t faze you.

Not much fazes you.

With the help of a little life jacket-y  thingy, you learned to swim the length of the pool.  You are an enthusiastic little water baby. (Ahem…I meant Big Boy. You graduated into pre-school this week. Mama’s still a little sad about that)  Actually, you’re pretty adamant that you HATE water until we coax you into it. And then you never, ever, EVER want to get out again. Because you’re too busy drinking the water.

Little Bear, you add so much joy to our lives that sometimes I’m sad that you’ll be my only baby. But then I remember that you went to the top of the McDonald’s play structure (and we all know that Mama hates that play structure) and pooped yourself silly. You were too mortified to move so I had to crawl up there, on my poor decrepit knees, and rescue you.

It was hard to maintain dignity while hauling you out of there, but sweetie, I would do it again. It broke my heart to see you upset and stuck. Obviously, that doesn’t stop me from sharing that event with the world. Is now a good time to remind you that we replaced the college fund with a therapy fund?

Your dad went on his big motorcycle ride with the guys this month and I made it my goal to have as much quality, fun time with YOU as possible. And Little Bear, we missed Daddy but we had a blast! You’re always good company. You make me laugh, you make me think, and you challenge me to grow every day. You also challenge my patience.

I love you, Roper. Today, more than yesterday. Tomorrow, more than today.

Love,

Your Mama

P.S. You remind me of Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes

5 Comments

Filed under Letters to Roper

Tagged as , ,

June 3, 2012 · 2:44 pm

33 Months!

Little Bear,

As of yesterday, you are a happy, healthy thirty-three-month-old. 33! Pause and soak that in for a second. We might be slightly unconventional parents, but we are having a blast and you are thriving. I really couldn’t ask for more.

However, at the moment I’m still recovering from your post-church, pre-nap fit. In a word, it was impressive. You really left it all on the stage, kiddo. BRAVO. So instead of sitting inside writing you a long monthly letter, I’d like to go play outside with you and laugh off our frustrations. What do you say? In the meantime, I’ll give you some bullet points and pictures.

The condensed version of the last month is that we had a ridiculous amount of fun. Also, your family (immediate and extended) is CRAZY. Just keep that in mind throughout your life and the rest of the world will make sense.

Highlights:

  • You now wear underpants. Pretty much the awesomest thing ever. Nice work, buckaroo.
  • You sometimes still brandish your penis as a weapon and pee all over the house. Not as cool.
  • I often get to hear you say “I would like more salad please.” This sentence makes me one of the happiest moms around. Polite. Veggie-loving. *swoon*
  • You LOVE camping. To the extent that we put a tent in your room to sleep in.
  • You and I road tripped to Spokane to do the Bloomsday 8k with a posse of your cousins. Loud crowded fun!
  • You love every one of your cousins with enthusiasm and fierce adoration. Memorial day was a slice of heaven for you.
  • The other night, the neighbor kids were outside playing and you called from your bed “Help me, Mama. I need my earplugs!” For the record, you don’t have earplugs. But you constantly make me laugh.
  • You’re OCD. You line up all of our shoes, straighten rugs, and can’t move until the Velcro straps of your shoes are absolutely, precisely perfect. This does not come from my side of the family.

Little Bear, you are a busy, creative, exuberant, filthy, hilarious, tender-hearted boy who happens to be wicked smart. There is no relaxation when you’re around, but there’s almost always laughter. You’re not short on personality. This month we celebrated Mother’s Day and I’m so grateful for, and humbled by, the opportunity to be your mama. My life is much bigger and better for it. I love you, sweet boy.

Love,

Your Mama

You and Dexter (and the rest of the cousins!) had a blast on Bloomsday weekend.

You love driving the tractor

Mother’s day – I’m so proud to be your mama!

Terrorizing the neighborhood with Opa. You have a beautiful bond with all of your grandparents!

Lots of splashing in the water over Memorial Day weekend!

You are never without a truck. Or five.

Eating watermelon with Colter and Milo.

Ragin’ the Sage!

Leave a Comment

Filed under Letters to Roper

Tagged as , , ,

May 4, 2012 · 2:33 pm

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

8 Comments

Filed under Letters to Roper

Tagged as , , , , ,

April 3, 2012 · 4:27 pm

31 Months, BIRD

Dear Roper,

What’s up, BIRD?

That’s what you like to say instead of “What’s up, dog?” And then you giggle hysterically. If it gets a chuckle out of us, you’ll keep going with “What’s up, COW?” and “What’s up, KITTY?” and then laugh until you snort.

When your dad and I hug, you come racing into the room with your one arm pumping (it’s a signature run, I’m not sure why you only use one arm. Style, maybe?) and shout, “Here comes the peanut butter!!” and squeeze in-between us so you can be the best part of an already good sandwich.

You constantly crack us up. You’ve picked up a few oddities from your dad like using the word “Gandhi” instead of “gone.”  So when you finish eating your apple, you exclaim, “My apple’s Gandhi!”

Your enthusiasm is tough to beat. When you play with your motorcycles, your commentary gets increasingly louder. “I’m riding a motorcycle, dude. Yeah, dude!! A MOTORCYCLE, DUDE. YEEAAAHH!” and then the whole town is suddenly aware that you’re playing with your motorcycles.

Speaking of shrieking…..were we not speaking of shrieking? It’s hard for me to tell, because my ears are still ringing from The Target Incident. I had to leave my cart in Target and haul you out of there, screaming at the top of your lungs, pinwheeling your arms, kicking and head-butting me, and knocking things off the shelf. To make matters worse, you biked to the store so I had to carry you – not unlike trying to hold a bobcat who just had a leg cut off with a chainsaw – AND your bike. Funsies!

Dear patrons and store staff, glaring at me doesn’t really help the situation Mainly because I can’t see you with all the sweat (mine), thumbs (Roper’s) and tears (both) in my eyes. Save your hate for the parent who let their kid terrorize the store by bike.

Oh wait, that was me. NEVERMIND.

Luckily, we survived. And at your core, you’re a sweet, sweet boy. You talk about flowers being beautiful with a reverent tone, you hug me with all your might and you make out with your stuffed animals with unrivaled passion. Actually, that last part is a little conflicting for me. It’s adorable, but also a tad disturbing.

You’re tough. The other night, you and your dad were up at the property working on the dirt bike. When you got home, your dad said something about you complaining that your finger hurt and that it needed kissed. I took a look at your fingers and two of them were burnt and blistered down their entire length. You had, at some point, put your hand against the work light (ouch!) but you were too busy playing to mention it until you got in the car.

I kissed those cute little fingers and we haven’t heard a peep out of you since. Aside from an occasional request for new camo bandages. Because those are awesome.

Little Bear, we got to camp with you for three days at the Desert 100 and it was a blast! You loved the “Rainbow camper” and totally immersed yourself in the dirt biking world. It was awesome watching you ride around on your KTM strider. I could tell that in your mind, you were on a dirt bike just like the “big kids”. I can’t wait until we can all ride together as a family. You’ll probably surpass my skill level within the first year, but it’s going to rock.

Thank you for another adventure-filled month, sweet boy. You make me proud!

Love,

Your Mama

4 Comments

Filed under Letters to Roper, Parenting, Roper

Tagged as , , ,

March 2, 2012 · 4:36 pm

30 Months of Awesome Sauce

Dear Roper,

Today you are 30 months old. Two and a half. To the rest of the world, you are two because the rest of the world doesn’t measure things in months and halve-sies. But I remember when you were first born and we were counting your life by breaths, then minutes, and finally by hours as you healed from your resuscitation and the hole in your lung.

Your strength has always amazed me

So, today is your half birthday and I intend to celebrate. Especially since it’s also your cousin’s birthday and Dr. Seuss’ birthday. ICE CREAM!!

Little Bear, you are good company. You have an amazing sense of humor and are overflowing with personality. You engage people – complete strangers – at a level that still startles me.

Sometimes you make me burst out in laughter despite my best efforts to look stern. Recently, you’ve been testing out different facial expressions and hand gestures to go along with your quirky little jokes. It has me ROLLING in the car. You are the king of sound effects and weird head movements.

You call me dude.

You are also very thoughtful. You ask where the moon goes during the day. And if we can’t see the moon at night you ask “Is the crescent moon hiding behind its blankets? Where did it go?” You pick up on people’s emotions and want to know what causes them. You give me back rubs.

Little Bear, your adventurous spirit is still running strong. You’ve become an impressive little biker – going off curbs, riding through the snow, trying out little jumps and obstacles. We took you to arena cross and you loved the monster truck ride. You went snowshoeing, are on a soccer team and adore helping your dad up at the property. You and I have guitar jam sessions in the morning. We suck and it’s awesome.

When I peek in your crib at you at night to admire you in your darling footed pajamas with your soft white hair, cherubic cheeks and pouty lips, I watch you breathe. It’s amazing to see you so STILL. It’s an abnormal state. And then I whisper, “Goodnight, Little Bear” and you, without opening your eyes, belch out “Night, Mom” in a surly tone, as you sigh and throw your arm over your eyes.

It’s puzzling. You usually have the sweetest little voice. Sometimes, in the morning, you sing little songs in your crib and it melts my heart. Your voice is like cotton candy and easter chicks wrapped in soft blankets. Until you want my attention. “MOM! I’M READY TO GET OUT!” You holler in a booming voice. I come into your room expecting to find a 6-foot-tall, hairy man-child straining the seams of adult-size footed pajamas crammed in your crib.

Honestly, I can’t wait to see what you’re going to be like when you turn into that surly teenager. But I’m enjoying every second getting to that point.

We love you, Little Bear. More than you’ll ever comprehend….until you have your own little critter who shouts “I toot-tooted out of my bum-bum” and laughs hysterically until he can’t breathe. Then you might know.

Love,

Your Mama

6 Comments

Filed under Letters to Roper, Parenting, Roper, Wenatchee

Tagged as , , , ,

January 3, 2012 · 2:39 pm

28 MONTHS?!

Little Bear,

Yesterday you turned twenty-eight months old.

You are a rock star. A stud, rapscallion and scamp. You are a one-man circus. A comedian. You are a world full of love stuffed tight in a disheveled little body. You are both Cooper and Steere. You are a hungry billy goat, a filthy little rabbit and an adorable bear cub all rolled in one. You are a perfect set of lips attached to 32 pounds of pure exuberance. You are mine.

You are also TWO. You have been repeating the phrase “I want juice box” over and over and over for the last ten minutes in a high-pitched whine that makes me feel violent. Everything is YOURS and you will fight for it. You have opinions. Strong ones. You are destructive.  You break toys, furniture and appliances on a daily basis. You spit on me. You are still mine.

You are creative, defiant and messy.

You are sweet and earnest.

You are expressive and hilarious.

You roll like a BOSS.

And you complete our little family.

Thank you for another adventure-filled month!

Love,

Your Mama

Leave a Comment

Filed under Letters to Roper

Tagged as , , , ,