cry me a river.

Because it is not Friday. Because it is not summer. Because we are not at Disneyland (but we will be soon!!) or in the tropics. Because it is past nap time.


Disclaimer: No delicious infants were forced to model way past nap time or squeezed in to newborn hats in the making of this post. Not one.

ocho.

Maximo,

Guess what?! You are EIGHT months old today. As in...eight, right, not a typo. Psh. Don't think I am allowing the next month to fly by so quickly. I mean I control your life because I'm your mother, remember that when your five or seventeen. Oh by the way, hello you are not five or seventeen years old, please stop STANDING on my furniture like your some show off toddler, because you are NOT. I mean I know you think you deserve a drivers license and a 12-pack of corona, but umm, no. Even though you are eight months old, your still a bitty, well my bitty.


I swear I birthed a teething, crawling infant. It seems like Mason was a baby for SO long, you were born and now your all wild and huge. Not to mention extremely mobile. I could totally handle you just relaxing. I mean lets go ahead and quadruple my work. I no longer need a vacuum. It's a miracle. You pick up the smallest, most non-existent crumbs. You make me feel like our rug could be on Hoarders. Stop growing, pretty please. Oh better yet, just slow down. I guess it wouldn't fare well to be a 17 pound first grader. I'm going to create a freeze your baby potion and become a billionaire. I have a few mom friends who'd invest.


I guess I'll take the trade off of adorable smiles for the sleepless newborn nights. Oh wait a sec...there was no trade off in our world. Meaning I'm getting jipped. I admit sometimes you are extra cute and cuddly in the middle of the night, I guess that's nature's way of ensuring mother's actually tend to their screaming babies in the middle of the night-extra cuteness. Who can resist dimples, even at 3 AM? I mean really you have my permission, my blessing, whatever you need, to start sleeping through the night though, promise. Maybe I need a potion for that too. I'll be a trillionaire, because one thing parents like more than teensy cuddly, newborns, is sleeping-all -night infants and children.



It's true, I love you when your sleeping but I love you more awake. Don't go getting any ideas...keep napping like a champ. You nap so good I think you could win a Gold. Obviously napping should be a winter Olympic event. What else is there to do in the winter? Sleeping and smiling. Sounds like a good winter to mama. I basically want to shrink you down and put you in my pocket and keep you this sweet, loving-life, happiest-baby-on-the-block, baby boy, Maximo. I know it's not an option so I'll relish all the snuggles and snotty nosed slobbered kisses and the midnight wakings (sigh) today. Not tomorrow, not next month.



Stay awesome and adorable, munchkin.

Loving you,
Mama

Ready or not.

Three years ago today, I was not a mother. I was around eight months pregnant in the hospital in labor, trying to sleep, but anxiously awaiting the impeding arrival of a precious baby boy. Three years ago today I didn't know Mason. It's so strange to think back to life pre-baby (or babies), but believe it or not, it existed. Not knowing the challenges or the extreme joys I was in for. Just three years ago. Three years ago today, I'd never smelled his fresh newborn forehead. I never knew how small a newborn could be. I never fathomed what five pounds of baby actually looked like. So small. From head to toe you were tiny. Perfect. Perfectly tiny. I never counted his toes or tried with all my might to cut tiny toenails without clipping off some skin. I never traced his spine with my fingers and watched him breathe all night long. Just three years ago.Three years is a long time, you can almost get a bachelors degree in a subject of your choice, you actually can if you have no life. You can train for mutliple marathons, birth three children, travel the world. Hell you could probably walk from Mexico City to Vancouver, Canada, if you wanted to.

But three years goes quick. So quick that I still smell NICU soap on my hands if I close my eyes. I can still remember the taste of the pasta salad we lived on for a week while we waited for Mason to be discharged from the hospital. Three years has flown by.I'm not quite sure what it is about three. But three is daunting. Atleast for me. I'm sure nothing is frightening or upsetting about three for Mr. Mason. But three means he is no longer a toddler. I was a little apprehensive to be a mom to a 'kid' but a friend of mine reassured me he was only a 'preschooler', nonetheless, he's no longer a toddler.

It's pretty simple to see just looking as his narrowed cheeks, his thinned fingers, and listening to his totally audible speech. No baby babbling. Words. He speaks sentences, that is so preschool. His hands no longer possess the roll where his wrist meets his palms. And he most certainly does not have the same cheeks he was born with.I'm really not sure about three. Maybe it's because two was so fun, so good to us, that three can't possibly top it. I'm just not quite sure.

I'll have a preschooler tomorrow. Just three years ago I had a newborn. That went quick.
I watched a video of Mason's first steps the other day. It looked like someone was holding a gun to his back, he wavered in nearly each small step, but it was such a success, he was walking. Today I watched him run down the street. He ran quickly and with ease. Totally steady, not one wavering step.It's funny how people try to get prepared for a new baby. Prewash, double rinse, rewash in Dreft. Loads of laundry, swaddling blankets and sleepers washed, baby bedding washed (and even ironed) just awaiting a noodle bodied newborn. Freshly painted nursery walls, diapers in two sizes stacked in the changing table. Car seat installed, uninstalled and reinstalled. Just to be sure, just to be safe.But really it doesn't matter how ready you think you are. You just can't be ready. How do you prepare for your whole life to change in the blink of an eye. Literally. You blink and then you meet your newborn baby.One minute you are not a mom, the next you are. Suddenly it's like you have this huge responsibility, this wrinkled, pink, generally pissed infant needing you to do everything for them. Everything. Three years ago, you made me a mom. For that I'd like to thank you Mason.I was anything but ready for Mason. Arriving more than four weeks early, I wasn't even stocked on diapers. I surely wasn't ready for the tar-like poop you get when you first change the Pamper. I'm not quite sure I even knew how to change a diaper of a real infant. I didn't own a sleeper for a baby as small as Mason was. I'd washed plenty of cute rompers, folded and matched tons of socks, but he swam in every piece of clothing I'd bought.
I wasn't ready to feel like I was holding something so fragile I might break it. Three years later I sometimes still feel like I'm holding a fragile newborn, his face has changed, undoubtedly, yet, it's so much the same.I don't really remember the first time I held him. I remember he felt floppy like a noodle, I felt like I was going to break him, that memory is crystal clear. Within two days I felt like he was unbreakable, that was a quick adjustment. I was worried when I first met Mason that I wouldn't know how to love him. That I wouldn't know what to do. For anything. How much would he need to eat and when could I tell if he was full? Surely that'd be one of my easiest challenges. Would love come immediately? If it didn't would it never come?I worried something would be wrong. Every minute of delivery, every day in the NICU. Finally he came home and I felt love and relief and the worry was gone. Love came quick. Loving Mason came easy.The past three years have been blissful, they've been challenging, they've been fun and funny and non stop. The past three years have been hard, really, really hard. The past three years have been the best years I've had yet.
Just three years ago I first heard you cry. You came to me quickly. Right in time to finish up a Grey's Anatomy "To Be Continued...", right in time to stare at you intently for a whole night, right in time. I can't believe it's been three whole years since we first met.I never thought I'd love anyone the way I love you. But you proved me wrong. Oh. So. Wrong. It only took me 3 minutes to feel overwhelming love for you. Just three quick, short minutes to feel that way, but the three years has made it rock solid. Everyday you do something that makes me love you more. Everyday I learn something new about you. You never cease to amaze me.
Tomorrow my baby will be three. Ready or not, he's turning three. No slow motion button, no rewind, nope, not happening. But three, oh that is happening. He will blow out candles tomorrow. He will wake up and be three. (I'm waiting to celebrate until 7:05pm, because I can and hey, every minute counts).I guess three can't be bad. Not with a preschooler as awesome as you. Three is more than half your whole hand. That's pretty cool and you are pretty damn cool yourself. Let's see what three will bring. I will try my hardest not to blink this year. Because it's already been three years. Thank you for being mine.
Three years old. That was quick. Maybe too quick. But ready or not, it's here. Mason Michael, you are three years old and I barely blinked.

say what?!

OH.EM.GEE.IN TWO DAYS MY BABY IS THREE.

just like my daddy.

it all started with a simple sentence,
"those are daddy's, those are some big shoes to fill babycakes."

one day, there is no doubt in my mind you will be a wonderful, well rounded man, just like your father. generous, captivating, amusing, a riot, driven, dedicated, athletic and impeccable. you are already an amazing little guy and someday you will be a fantastic man. one day, you will be a golf enthusiast, just like your daddy. i see business in your future, smooth, slick, charming, just like your daddy. your laugh is warm, radiant and contagious. just like daddy.you have big dreams, high hopes, a gentle heart with a strong spirit. just like your daddy. you have a striking personality, it's hard to look away. just like your daddy. you are entertaining, entrancing, nearly mind blowing. just like your daddy. you never give up, you fight every battle thoroughly, stubbornly, with cause and no regret. just like your daddy. you say what's on your mind, never holding back in fear of sounding foolish. you share you intelligence and knowledge with anyone who will listen. people listen intently. you are just like your daddy.they're big shoes to fill. your daddy is admirable, outstanding, wonderful. you are just like your daddy, i wouldn't have it any other way. they may be big shoes little guy, but when i let you know that you replied "don't worry mommy one day i'll have big feet. just like my daddy." i wouldn't want either of you, any other way.

newton who?

It's funny when we go outside to walk and play mason nearly always insists on riding his "bike". So as I juggle Max in one arm and a juice sippy in the other and hopefully some hot coffee in one of the first two (someone forgot when you become a mother, you should acquire a third arm) I find the bike and lug it outside. He rides it .5 seconds and then it begins.
"mommy i'm too tie-ed ride my bike, you wide it home fo me?"
Hmmm. Let's see should I let Max walk home? Wait, I have an idea why don't I put my coffee, the baby and your juice cup in a tower, stacked atop my head. Surely i can manage that.
I mean the cat and the hat can balance a fish bowl and a bunch of random shiz.
Certainly, let me "wide you bike home for you".

I don't know if he doesn't know or doesn't give a damn that scooting requires a lot less energy than walking...scratch that...than running. Apparently scooting your bike is hard work. Too hard. Not running though - running is cake. Child's play people. Masee can run all day and he does. Hopefully his physics teacher will give him a break when it comes to momentum and force and Newton.
Perhaps mommy will just cut him a break again.

Sorry newton, all those laws you created. Yeah, those. They don't really hold true when you roll with us.

This is how we roll.

copy cat.

i wonder where he gets it..hmmm?he was born with a flash going off. poor guy. but at least he'll have memories.
lots and lots of sweet memories.
so say cheese people.

energy.

oh my, my, my sweet mister mason, you my dear are 28 lbs of pure energy. i swear someone is slipping you red bull and espresso shots in your sleep. from the minute you wake up until the very second you close your eyes you are moving, nonstop. actually, you even move in your sleep. you practically kickbox my ribs all night long. this is why in 14 days the agreement (i need you to sign a contract) is for you to be in your own bed. that's a whole 'nother story though.

you need nonstop fun for your nonstop energy and well i just can't keep up. it's a good thing, a damn good thing, i didn't wait until my mid 30s to have you because i'd need more than red bulls and espresso shots to deal. i'd need a nanny, who was seven and on crack. seriously you have major energy. when this intense vigor you possess isn't channeled correctly, things get ugly. sometimes you wake up at 8:05 and by 8:15 it looks like a tornado ran through our living room. energy. activity. zip. zing. zest. pep. spirit. mason.

so we joined little gym and for one hour one day a week, you are entertained to the fullest. the give you a run for your money. you zip and zing. you are full of zest. you have a total blast.

you are daring. you are fearless. you are adventerous. you are determined, balanced, patient and resilient.
you are strong and courageous.you are silly. humorous. youthful. a pure joy. you are rewarding. you are grand. you are proud. and so am i.