On Kids and Technology

Confession: I let the TV and tablet and my phone babysit my toddler for a little while. And now she's addicted. And I hate myself for it. I'm working on breaking her addiction, but as with all things Toddler, it's easier said than done.

We don't have cable TV anymore. We got rid of it when Carys was maybe six months old and she constantly was trying to crane her head around to watch TV, and I decided that I needed to stop watching it, even in the background, when she was around. From that point until she was around one and a half, we didn't really let her watch much TV, and life was good. She wasn't really interested in it, and we kept busy outside and doing other things.

But I got pregnant with Emmeline right around that time and first trimester exhaustion just completely wiped me out, so I went the easy way out and let her watch a ton of Netflix on TV while I laid on the couch and napped.

BAD idea.

When I eventually got some energy back, trying to wean her of constant TV watching was painful...for both of us. Her because I was removing access to her precious shows, and me because I had to listen to the whining and screaming.

Her whole personality changed on days when she was allowed to watch so much TV. She was meaner and whinier and not nearly as pleasant - and this was with watching "good" shows like Daniel Tiger and Sesame Street. We didn't even watch Calliou because I've heard horror stories about whiny kids stemming from it, so the change in personality was honestly pretty shocking.

Look at that grump face.

She is also obsessed with "her" tablet (actually mine) and will throw a fit if she isn't allowed to use it - which is terrifying, because I don't let her use it that often. We're talking 10-15 minutes here and there. Yet if she isn't allowed it, she has a meltdown. And if she's allowed to use it unchecked, she could literally go three hours straight using it and watching "eggs" on YouTube (people opening KinderSurprise Eggs. It's a thing. Apparently?) without blinking. I know this, because when I was passing kidney stones about a month ago and in agony one day*, I let her use it without a time limit and she didn't set it down for a moment. Like some teenage dude, she even watched it while she was peeing.  The same personality shifts occur when she uses the tablet; going from pleasant and easy-going and a good listener to cranky and whiny and even lashing out more.

*Oh, did I forget to blog about that? Because yeah, I passed a couple kidney stones and had an ambulance ride and hospital negligence and then a different hospital and ER visit and all that. But the fuckers came out and if I ever get them again I think I'll just carve my kidneys out with a plastic spoon, because that would be less painful.

I instituted a system of "TV Tickets" (actually for any screen, but TV tickets flows better than "screen time tickets") where she got four tickets each day. She can use any one ticket for 30 minutes of screen time or all four to watch a movie (this was later cut to 15 minutes, though she could still use all four for a movie). That actually works well - she will even tell us to turn off the TV if we are watching it after her bedtime and she comes out for a glass of water. I stopped letting her watch it within an hour of waking  up, as it seems that screen time in the morning completely throws off her mood the rest of the day. She was still constantly asking for the phone or tablet, so I had to further institute a "one screen at a time" rule (i.e. tablet OR phone OR television), which makes me want to punch myself in the face, because how did I let it get to that point? There were actually times when she was watching TV *and* playing on my phone? WTFFFFFFFFFFF, self???

I know that she wasn't watching that much TV compared to national averages, but it was way more than what a "good" mom - the mom I wanted and want to be - would allow. And I needed to limit it for my personal parenting goals, also - our activities and walks and trips had greatly decreased during that time, too. I was so tired and sick when I was giving into her and using it as a crutch, but it was a hard habit to break even when I started to feel better.

The idea that she's so easily engrossed in my phone and my tablet and the TV, even when only getting to use them briefly, is horribly sad to me.  And Emmeline is beginning already - she reaches for my phone whenever she sees it. I know part of that is because she's a baby and the lights are engrossing to her, but I want to do for her from the start what I did for Carys - only without the backwards slide.

When I look around at my husband and myself, and I can absolutely see from where it comes. I was one my phone and computer all the time. I've gotten a lot better once I was honest with myself and once I made the commitment to cut back. I've made a huge effort to be on my phone or computer only when she's sleeping. But it's stupidly hard. I feel like I'm missing out on some urgent news if I'm not checking Facebook or Instagram throughout the day, and like events aren't happening unless they're documented or shared.

WHICH IS DUMB. My childhood was absolutely amazing, and it only fills like four physical photo albums. It wasn't blogged about (irony/pot/kettle) or posted to social media or shared on Instagram.

I love those connections, though. I love reaching out and connecting with other people, especially other moms of small kids. I don't want to give it all up.  (Sometimes those fifteen minutes on Facebook are the only adult interactions I get all day.) But I can do that during select moments, rather than al day long. So I'm trying so hard to be present and phone-free in my daily interactions with the kids, but I sometimes feel so addicted to my phone and social media. I feel my fingers inching towards the phone or computer and telling myself, "I'll just check it quickly and then log right back off."

I also know we're not a "no TV" or "no tablet" or "no phone" family. We'll always have them around. Realistically, she will get screen time. There will be some times that I need to make dinner and she's nagging me, or some days when I don't feel good, or some days when she doesn't feel good.  There's a time and place for screens, and I need to be better about limiting viewing to those times. I can't and shouldn't and won't beat myself up for the odd show here or tablet time there.  I will be mad at myself, though, if she comes to me and I tell her to "Wait a minute, honey," while I check Twitter one more time.

I'm working on it.

I've stopped taking pictures and immediately uploading them to Instagram - instead, I snap some pics, put the phone away, and upload them to Instagram later, when the kids are sleeping or, let's be honest, when I'm peeing. I love taking pictures of the girls, and I doubt I'll ever cut back on that, but I don't need to take additional time to post the pictures online within seconds. That can wait.

I limit myself to a few minutes of Facebook a day, after I've tucked the girls into bed or, let's be honest again, when I'm peeing. Facebook can wait.

I don't watch television until they're in bed  (which is good, since I doubt the lesbian scenes in Orange is the New Black would be considered toddler-friendly).  Television can wait. (No, I don't watch TV while peeing.)

I love to read, but instead of picking up my Kindle or reading on my phone, I'm picking up real books. I want the girls to read (and thank god they both love books despite their screen love), but they aren't going to pick up good reading habits watching me stare at a screen. They need to see me reading real books, and reading often. (Also, sidenote: If you saw a parent at a park reading a physical book while their child was playing, you probably wouldn't think twice. But if you saw them staring at their phone - even if they were reading War and Peace - you would totally judge. Because you wouldn't know they were reading War and Peace. So. Deep thoughts there.)

It's a work in progress, which seriously makes me heartsick to type. It shouldn't be a work in progress to be completely present to your children. That doesn't mean I need to entertain them every minute. I want them to learn to play independently, and Carys is actually really good at it. But I don't want to be a zoned-out, "hang on a minute," phone-checking zombie when they're playing by themselves, completely engrossed in my computer.  There are so many better things I could be doing with that time.

I know it's only by seeing me (and their dad, but getting him on board is another story) put down our phones that her screen addiction will truly break. Every time I sneak a glance at my phone when Carys is trying to engage me in play, I'm breaking her a little bit.

I need to fix myself before I can fix her.

Screens can wait. Their childhood can't.

Climb On : A Little Something for Me

A lot of this blog  Most of this blog  This entire blog is pretty much about the girls. Getting pregnant, having a baby, raising a baby, raising a toddler, getting pregnant again, having another baby, raising a baby again, raising a baby and a toddler....it makes sense because, well, that's my life. The girls are my passion and my reason for being and my two favorite things in life. I love being their mom, I love being with them, I love it all. Except for these incredible toddler tantrums that I think are a glimpse into the world that is Three and let me tell you...I want a refund. I don't want to take the trip into Three. I'll keep Two, thank you very much.

All that is to say that I don't do a lot that is just for myself. I sometimes do a shoot or a wedding here, or a trip to Target there, or an adult outing way over there, but it's rare. Before I got pregnant with Emmeline, I'd started going to the gym with my sister several times a week and taking Carys to the gym daycare there. After I got pregnant again, I got too lazy to keep going (that 1st tri exhaustion is no joke) and then I was too big to keep going and then I had just had a c-section and then I had a newborn and long story short, I cancelled the gym membership. But I've been itching to be active.  After multiple failed gym memberships, though, I've come to the realization that I just am not a gym kind of girl. I'm a long bike ride kind of girl. I'm a go on a hike kind of girl. I'm a rock climbing kind of girl. WHAT? Rock climbing?

YES.

My sister (via her boyfriend via their friends) started rock climbing (sport climbing) at an indoor gym and has been loving it. I couldn't go with her for ages since I was, you know, gestating a kid, and then couldn't go because I wasn't cleared to work out. But I finally got a chance to go with her this last week and I. am. in. LOVE. It was so incredibly fun.

I'm still a total beginner - I did my first belay training/test last week and should get certified this week - but I got shoes and my own harness (no more stinky gym rentals for me!) and am planning on making this a weekly thing.  There are lots of young chicks out there doing it (although it's definitely male-dominated) but not a lot of 30-something, stay-at-home moms who are wickedly out of shape doing it. At least not according to Blogs On The Internet. So this should be an interesting journey.  If for no other reason than the lingo. Which is awesome. Climb on!

In other news, Carys started a tumbling class a few weeks ago. This last week was week four of six. The first two weeks, she was in class with two completely adorable but crazy rambunctious twins (we'll call them L and V, since those are their actual initials and I'm not creative) who ran all over the place like little madwomen. It was funny, but I felt bad for their poor mom, who was so clearly frustrated with them. For the two classes they attended, she threatened that they would go home or skip next week pretty much the entire time, and now they haven't been in the latest two classes, so maybe she followed through on her threat? All that to say that it's a one-on-one class now, which is pretty awesome. She gets the teacher's full attention and gets to do so much more each class and is loving it.

Andplusalso she looks like she's five now and it's ridiculous and makes me die a little inside. In equally good and bad ways.

And the baby is pretty damn cute, too.

The Transition to Two

The transition to two has been...interesting. It's a lot easier than I thought it would be overall. But I need to justify that remark: Emmeline is a very easy baby (how much wood can I knock on here? all of it. I knock on all of it)*. She rarely cries unless she's hungry or hurt ("Carys! Please do not try to bounce the baby's head!"), she's generally easily soothed when she is crying, and she goes to sleep very easily.** She's happy to be put in her swing with her paci and watch the mobile. So she's an incredibly easy baby thus far and I'm incredibly, incredibly lucky, especially since Carys was also easy. I'm totally due a difficult baby now so I probably shouldn't chance a third kid.***

*Please don't hate me. Maybe it's just karma giving me a pass since our first pregnancy was so hard? Or the baby stork knew I needed an easy baby since I'm alone with both of them 9am to 10pm during the week and eight hours each weekend day (I completely know that's nothing compared to military wives and single moms)? Maybe it's just luck? Maybe it will all change tomorrow. Who knows what will happen with these tiny unpredictable beings? A sleep regression might hit and it'll be all WHOA KID HERE HAVE SOME NYQUILL and I'll be hiding in a closet.

** Carys went to sleep easily for the first few months, then totally disintegrated and needed to be rocked/nursed to sleep for ages and ages, so I don't expect this to to continue.

***I say "I" because Chris has said I'm welcome to a third kid but he won't be the one providing the other half of the DNA. We'll talk again in a year or so. ;)

With Emmeline being so easy, I can absolutely say that Carys has been the more difficult kid of the two. But if I'm trying to make you hate me even more, I'll be honest and say our "difficult" toddler is really not that difficult. She's a pretty easy toddler and a good kid (where'd that wood go?).  Lucky as heck again.  However, Carys is not yet three, and I hear from virtually everyone that it shouldn't be the terrible twos but rather the super-horrible-awful-where's-the-wine terrible threes. I am not looking forward to that. I am hoping that her cuteness picks up just enough to offset any wretchedness that occurs (although let's be real - have you SEEN her lately? I don't think she can get any cuter).  This all means that this "easiness" could come crashing down at any moment, and you'll find me crying in a corner.

So overall I've been lucky, and have had only a couple times thus far where both kids were crying or needed me, and have been able to keep myself fairly sane. Or at least not any more insane than usual.  Two kids has been easy since Emmy lets me put her in the swing to take care of Carys, and it's been easy because they generally nap and go to bed at the same time, which allows me to nap (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) or catch up on housework. HA. I wrote that but it never actually happens. It allows me to nap. Or jump on Facebook. Or edit pictures. But rarely do I use it to catch up on housework, which explains a lot [looks around at messy house].  It's been easy because Carys (usually) loves her little sister and because Carys is old enough to do many, many things on her own - get her own water, go potty, clean up, get her preferred toys out. It's been easy because Carys is also old enough to help out with the baby. She's not babysitting or changing diapers, but she can grab me a burp cloth or a diaper when needed. I give the girls baths at the same time and they go down for the night around the same time and they usually nap at the same time as well.  Also, she potty trained before the baby arrived, so I only have to deal with one in diapers during the day (though Carys is still in diapers overnight).  Carys plays really well independently, so when I need to nurse Emmeline, she's happy to play with her playdough or do stickers or stamps. And, as I said earlier, Emmeline is an easy baby who doesn't demand my complete attention. This is all pure luck, not some parenting coup. I'm not that great of a parent, but I do have great kids. Makes my job easier. Thanks, girls!

However. It's not ALL a piece of cake. Some things are hard.

What is hard is finding space for all the shit that accompanies two kids with completely different sets of gear. So. much. shit. SO MUCH.  The swing. The bouncer. The bathtub. The Boppy. It all takes up so. much. room. I cannot walk a foot without tripping on some sort of kid paraphernalia.

What is hard is trying to find time to take a shower because you have to do it when they're both sleeping (because who knows when the big one will decide to try to pick up the baby and give her a bath or something) and when they're both sleeping all you want to do is sleep.

What's hard is getting up the motivation to do quick errands, because it takes longer to get both kids packed up and in and out of the car than it does to run the errand. Truthfully, the IDEA of going out with both of them is much more daunting than the actual going out. Usually, once I'm out, I think it's easy. But the idea of doing it? HARD.

What is hard is keeping up with the insane amounts of laundry that another tiny person adds to the mix (it's enough that I was tempted to not cloth diaper, but our neighbors gifted us a pack of size one diapers and after using them here and there, mostly out and about, it reminded me of why I hate them and love cloth). But seriously. Emmeline is like 10 pounds. How did she quadruple the amount of laundry I have to do?

What is hard is finding a baby-sitter you trust with two kids, one of them being a super active crazy toddler and one of them being a delicate baby. It can be hard enough parenting them on your own, and you do it 24/7 - how can you trust someone else to do it? Also, who is crazy enough to want to do it? How do people with four or six kids ever find a sitter?

What is hard is feeling like you're constantly ignoring one kid for the other - feeling like you're constantly putting the baby down to focus on the big kid (since the big kid will remember all those times you say no, so you want to say yes as often as possible) but at the same time feeling like you're constantly rejecting the big kid to focus on the baby (since the big kid can do so much for herself and the baby is helpless). It's hard feeling like you're not completely present for either of them. And having to say "not now" to a child who is looking at you with big eyes and asking you to "pwease!" put the baby in the swing so you can play playdough with them - the first time that happens, you just might cry.

What's also hard is feeling guilty that you don't have the one-on-one time with the baby that you were able to give the big kid - that the baby will never be the only one and never know what it's like to have all the attention for two years in a row. What's hard is at the same time feeling guilty that you don't have the one-on-one time with the big kid that she was used to for the first few years of her life.

What is hard is rarely having yourself to, well, yourself.  I'm lucky, like I said, and I actually get some time during the day and evening to myself when they are sleeping concurrently...usually. However, on days when Carys rejects her nap and is awake all day, I usually get to a point where I. want. to HIDE. Five minutes to shower, PLEASE. I'll even take two minutes to go pee by myself without someone needing me. On the days when they both don't nap, it's 12+ hours of constantly. being. needed. And touched. And serving two little dictators with no regard to yourself. With no break. Really, it's hard enough to go all day like that WITH a nap and an hour to yourself. On days without that hour break, it's just really, really hard.

What's hard is trying to balance the number of pictures on Instagram. If you post one of the baby, you'd better post one of the big kid lest someone think that you don't love the big kid just as much. Same goes with trying to keep equal kisses and hugs and cuddles and eventually, I assume, toys and timeouts. This one was mostly a joke. Except have you ever tried taking a picture of a two-year-old who doesn't want her picture taken? So it actually IS hard. In fact, I was so worried about making sure I was posting pictures of the hard kid to photograph (Carys) that I realized I hadn't posted any pictures of the easy kid (Emmy) in like a week. Overcompensate, much?

What's hard is trying to convince the big kid is that a baby actually IS delicate, and while you know she wants to carry the baby across the tile floor herself, it just isn't a good idea, and that you'll do it, but thanks for the offer.

What's hard is getting the fingernail polish out of the carpet that spilled when you were giving the baby her second bath of the day and the big kid was supposed to be napping but woke up and silently got into your bathroom cabinets and painted her own nails. Well, painted her own nails with whatever was left after she spilled the majority of it on the carpet.

The answer to that last one?

Goop.

Also, thank god for naps. Please don't stop napping til kindergarten, Carys.

The Truest Words That Were Ever True.

I posted about this on my Facebook a while ago, but stumbled across it again and was struck once more by how very, incredibly, heartbreakingly, wonderfully true these words are. I've rarely read something that touched quite so raw a nerve with me, that I could relate to so strongly.

The original blog post is at Momastery.com, here. I highly recommend the entire article, but this is the part that struck me so deeply:

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How was my day? Today has been a lifetime. It was the best of times and the worst of times. There were moments when my heart was so full I thought I might explode, and there were other moments when my senses were under such intense assault that I was CERTAIN I’d explode. I was both lonely and absolutely desperate to be alone. I was saturated- just BOMBARDED with touch and then the second I put down this baby I yearned to smell her sweet skin again. I was simultaneously bored out of my skull and completely overwhelmed with so much to do. Today was too much and not enough. It was loud and silent. It was brutal and beautiful. I was at my very best today and then, just a moment later, at my very worst. At 3:30 today I decided that we should adopt four more children, and then at 3:35 I decided that we should give up the kids we already have for adoption. Husband – when your day is completely and totally dependent upon the moods and needs and schedules of tiny, messy, beautiful rug rats your day is ALL OF THE THINGS and NONE OF THE THINGS, sometimes within the same three minute period. But I’m not complaining. This is not a complaint, so don’t try to FIX IT. I wouldn’t have my day Any.Other.Way. I’m just saying- it’s a hell of a hard thing to explain- an entire day with lots of babies.

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Every. Single. Word. is like it came straight from my heart. Every. dam. word.  Except "lots" of babies. I only have two. But sometimes it feels like lots.

Baby Squish : 30 Weeks. And also Carrots.

Other than the gestational diabetes diagnosis, not much has been happening still.* Getting bigger, still feeling really good, had a totally freaky experience when I could basically feel her entire foot through my belly button. Things are juuuuuust starting to get a bit squished in there. I feel huge, but I know there is SO MUCH MORE HUGENESS to come, so I'm focusing on feeling small.

*So I totally jinxed myself by starting this post on Sunday morning, because then Sunday afternoon I had a bit of a bleeding scare.  Had to go into L&D for some monitoring, but all seems to be fine and just taking it easy. 

Helloooooooo belly button.

With ten weeks and just over two months left, we still have no name and no nursery. But I'm less freaked out about either of those things now then I was earlier. Whatever, right? I assume she'll eventually have a name and we have a good six months to get her a room assuming all goes well and she sleeps okay in the Rock 'n Play like her big sister did.

Soooo I cheated and loved this outfit with the yellow sweater, but it's really like 29 weeks 3 days.  I was going to just fudge it but for unknown reasons felt guilty so I took a real 30 week picture today.

Speaking of her big sister...what I AM freaking out about is losing my one-on-one time with her.  Like to the point I start to cry when thinking about it. I know it's not gone forever, and I know that a sister is an amazing, amazing gift (please let them love each other!), but our quiet mornings where just the two of us snuggle and watch Sesame Street will not be the same after Squish arrives.  Nor will I be able to drop everything and read a book to her, or take a last-minute trip to the park, or even think about just her. Everything from December 17th on will need to take two kids into consideration.

(photo courtesy Darbi G Photography - this is just a screenshot of her screen, so excuse the quality)

I'm petrified of looking back at these last two months and feeling like I wasted them. I want to take off work for the next two months and fill our days with nothing but laughter and finger paint and cuddles. I want to quit all social media and break our TV and live in a world of books and wonder.  I want to take her to the zoo and the children's museum and Disneyworld and the moon.  I want to have her permanently attached to my side in a mom-first daughter love cocoon for ten weeks where I can just live in the pure joy and bliss* that is Carys.  She's such a unique, smart, silly, amazing little kid and I don't want to miss any of her, and I'm worried that splitting my attention between two kids will mean that happens. I know that will happen. I know there will be times when I have to sacrifice Carys time for Squish, and Squish time for Carys. I know that having two kids means that neither one will get my full attention as much as Carys did her first two years. I worry that I'll miss getting to know Squish like I did Carys, with two years of solid one-on-one time to get to know and love every little thing about her.

Seriously. THIS KID. 

AHHHH MOM GUILT EXPLOSION.

I need a brownie and a glass of wine. TWO THINGS WHICH I CANNOT HAVE, DAMMIT.

*Pure joy and bliss not guaranteed. She is two, after all.

A Reflection

I wrote this a few months ago and never published it for some reason. It still resonates, so I'm hitting go on it now. This was written in response to some relatives "teasing" me (read: criticizing me) that they never saw me without Carys and that we must be joined at the hip (perhaps they forget that I'm a SAHM with a husband who works 12+ hours a day?). Now that she's older, I do actually go out quite a bit on my own, but at the time, the suggestion that I wasn't giving myself enough "me" time hit home. Probably because they were right...but I just wasn't ready to steal that time for myself away from her quite yet. 

________________________________

I used to scoff at those women who introduced themselves as "So-and-so's mommy." Yes, true, I thought, you are So-and-so's mommy, but you're also YOU. And possibly a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a cousin, a boss, an employee.  You're someone who can't name your child. (Low blow, sorry, So-and-so's mom.) There are so many facets to each of our personalities; so many parts that make us whole. Once you have children, it can be a struggle to not let the "mommy" part overwhelm the other parts, until you've lost every bit of who you were pre-child.

While I still think that being "So-and-so's mommy" is selling yourself AND your child short, the truth is, I don't go out enough on my own. At this point, I simply don't want to. I've only had eight months with this little girl, and in reality she changes so much every week I feel like I've only had days with any given iteration of her. In the words of the immortal and wise and older-than-you'd-think-or-maybe-not Stephen Tyler, "I don't wanna miss a thing." Of course, he was probably on drugs when he said that, so perhaps I should look elsewhere for quotes. (Note: Four months later, I actually have been out a bit more. Slowly but surely!)

When Carys was gestating (weiiiiiird thought), she was wholly a part of me and dependent on me, though as the nine months of pregnancy went on, she became a more an independent being with her own personality (there is nothing quite so strange as something moving inside you that is at once completely separate and completely part of you).  After she was born, she was physically separate from me, but in nursing, she still relied on me to sustain her life.  (Okay, okay, she could have had formula and not needed me, but to me, nursing was important.)

Each day that passes, she becomes more and more autonomous, and the scale shifts from needing me wholly and completely to needing me less and less. At this point in her life, when I'm still the raison d'être, I want to be there.  I want to lose myself in the role of "Carys's momma." Of course, I still need to find time to be a wife, sister, daughter, granddaughter, cousin, and SELF as well, and sometimes I have to force myself to take a step back and take some time for myself. This new role, though, has become forefront in my priorities because at the moment, she needs me most.  But it's temporary, this time of complete dependance. Soon enough, Carys won't be my nursling (can I just "aww" over the cuteness of that word?) and we no longer will have a physical connection (other than her being an external manifestation of my love out there walking around in the world, of course).  When that happens, other priorities will slowly shift back into a more prominent place in my life - book club, girl's night out, solo vacations, and it will be good.  She will always be one of the biggest parts of my life and one of my top priorities, but as she gains independence, so will I.  (Sidenote: In reading this now, as she's 12 months old, it's already happening...too fast. She's so independant. I go out a LOT more now than I did before. It helps having my mom here to babysit at the drop of a hat!) 

I know many people who have become so wrapped up in and even obsessed with their children that they, as adults, have difficulty functioning without their kids in their day to day lives.  And I worry about that happening to me. In my mind, I think these issues arise when your children no longer need you as much, but you still need them. That is, when you haven't re-filled the spots in your life that in your pre-child "other" life olden days were dedicated to your hobbies but were transferred to your children once they arrived. When your children left, those spaces became empty again, and without anything to fill them you collapse into those holes and become a shadow of the person you once were (I think we all know people like this). While I'm worried about falling into that trap, I'm confident that in being aware of this potential landmine and with the fantastic example my mom set for us (she was always our mom and we were always a priority, but once we were old enough to navigate the world a bit on our own, she showed us that she was also a teacher and a friend and a mystery book club member, etc.) that I'll be able to avoid that situation in the long run. Because right now, I'm wrapped up in motherhood, but I know this isn't forever.  I know that as she grows we'll both want and need our own space, and that our priorities will change and shift and our lives will no longer revolve around each other.  Exactly how it should be.

In the meantime, I'm just enjoying this brief time (oh-so-brief) when she can be my world, and it's okay.

Letters to Carrots : Month Twelve : One Year Old

June 7 - July 7, 2012

Dear Carys,

Well, this is it. You're one, and it makes me want to burst into tears and clap and celebrate and kiss you and watch you walk and force you to cuddle with me like a newborn all at once. I'm so excited for what the next year will bring; I'm so proud to see the wonderful kid that you've become in the last year; and I'm heartbroken that your baby-hood is over.  I was there five days a week for most of it, and cancelled cable, and committed to staying off my phone and Facebook and computer while you are awake (I succeed about 75% of the time, but sometimes I just need to look up one quick thing, which leads to 100 quick things...please tell me I'm not the only one...), but still, I feel like there was SO MUCH I missed because I glanced away that one time. If I could I would go back and just stare at you all. day. long. With a video camera. And a time-freezing machine. I wonder if I could have done something differently to remember every second, like been born with a photographic memory.  Thanks for nothing, MOM.

 You want to be a big kid so much!

 This last year has been both the fastest and slowest I've ever experienced. It feels like a long time in that it's like you've been with us forever, and it's hard to remember pre-Carys days. But at the same time, it FLEW by. Actually, my whole pregnancy with you flew by too, so it's like the last two years happened in the blink of an eye. The Rally to Restore Sanity that we went to just before I found out I was pregnant with you feels like it happened just a few months ago, instead of in 2010.  I was warned. I was warned about how the whole space-time continuum changes when you're a parent, but I didn't understand. I COULDN'T understand. But it really does. Time takes on an entirely different speed and meaning once that slippery bundle of joy shoots out of a bodily orifice.

And I want 100 more years of you. I wanted 100 more years of newborn you and 100 more years of six-month you and I want 100 more years of one-year you. Every single stage has been my favorite up to that point, and I could never pick just absolute favorite. I want them all, concurrently.  Although today your dad said, "I love one. One is definitely my favorite." And really?  I love One too.  One is full of laughs and smiles and wonder (ONEder! ha!). If I thought you were toddler-like before, this month you truly embraced the role. Your babbling is purposeful. Your walking is confident. Your gestures are full of meaning.

It occurs to me that at some point I will have to stop calling these monthly letters, as "Letters to Carrots Month 180" when you're 15 seems impractical as well as difficult to keep track of. However, I'm telling myself it's okay as long as you're still in clothes labeled "month"...although you do have a pair of 2T pants. That fit. WTF. I blame Old Navy reverse vanity sizing.

If you're my mom, you're probably wondering if I'll still be nursing you at 180 months, and obviously the answer is: only if you want to be nursing. JUST KIDDING. You're only one; you're still a baby in so many ways, and you are so clearly not ready to lose that relationship, and neither am I. We're working on slowly dropping sessions here and there and I often offer you a sippy of milk or water instead of nursing when you make the "milk" sign, and sometimes you take it. But just as often, you just want that comfort, and I am loathe to take that away from you at this point. It just doesn't feel like the right stopping point. 

If I had to pick two things to define this, your twelfth month of life, they would be walking and reading. 

You love to walk. You took your first step at 10 months and 1 day old, and it was almost exactly a month from then until the day you officially were walking more than you were crawling. You are a pretty fast and stable walker by now and you love to toddle up and down the aisles at stores while I'm shopping...pulling everything off the lower shelves, of course (note: I let you if it's something I can pick up easily and isn't breakable, but I'm not that parent who lets their kid destroy the store).  It's a whole new world for you! In fact, I am not sure I've seen you crawl at all in the last two weeks. You have been waiting to be able to walk for months now, and now that you can I don't think you'll ever go back to crawling. The second I set you down, you're off and running.  Adorably, you prefer to walk so much that if you're tired and can't keep your balance as well as you can when you're wide awake, you'll fall and get up and take a step and fall and get up and take a step over and over, rather than just crawling to wherever it is you're trying to get. And you can walk in shoes, and you can walk on grass, and you can walk carrying heavy books. You are much more graceful than I am at the age of 31! The other day we took the dog on a walk and you walked for about two blocks, which is just incredible, especially for someone who at the time wasn't even a year old yet!  I love watching you walk, but at the same time it is the most surreal thing I've experienced during your first year (besides, well, you). When did you get old enough to do this? When did you get that tall? Where did my baby go?? Who is this CHILD who walks everywhere like a real little person?

The other defining item this month is reading. You've always loved books, but now it is ALL you love. I asked your dad what I should talk about in this month's letter, and he said, "Reading. Say she loves to read. And then say it again. And again. And again. For two hours straight."  And he's not exaggerating! You will pull out every single book on your bookshelf, bring it over to whatever adult is in the vicinity, put it in their hands, and sit on their lap to listen to them read to you. Then you repeat this times a million. The other day I spent - no lie - six hours reading to you (obviously with nap/eating breaks in there). You didn't want to play, you didn't want to dance, you didn't want to do anything but read. If the nearest adult is otherwise occupied, you'll physically grab their hand, open it, place the book in their hand, and close their hand around it. Your favorite book right now is one that you're not actually allowed to read on your own, because it's a pop-up book, but you know where I keep it and the second you wake up from a nap you ask to be picked up so you can see it and you point to it until I get it out for you. It's also very large and very heavy, and seeing you try to pick it up with both hands and bring it to me is a picture I never want to forget. You grasp it in both hands, lift your arms up high with your elbows by your ears, and peer over the spine of the book as you lug it to me.  And you like books on your own too - if no one is available, you'll sit and flip through the pages on your own. I never thought I'd say this, Carys, but I actually got sick of reading at one point. What?!!?! How?!?! And I'm pretty sure that you say, "Read!" too. It's a new addition to your vocabulary if you are saying it, but each of the last few times you've brought me a book you accompany it with a "reeee!" 




Other words in your vocabulary are dog (sometimes just "dag!" and sometimes a very clear "daggie!"), dada, cat ("keeee!"), hi (said with a wave, and said to ANYTHING), and the newest - tickle! You will work your fingers against my arm or stomach and say "ickle ickle ickle" and then wait for a reaction. It is absolutely hilarious.  It took a day or so for me to catch onto what you were trying to do, but when I realized it and gave the appropriate laugh and squirm you were positively delighted.  You sign "milk," "all done," and "more."

If "reading" and "walking" are the verbs of the month, the adjective is "fearless." 

A rare example of both your climbing and bikini-hoarding skills.

I've touched on your daredevil nature before, but it bears repeating. You. are. INSANE. You are the most kinetic child ever and want to constantly be moving, preferably at high speeds and off a high ledge.  You climb up slides (and not just the little slide in our backyard, but full-size ones at parks). You climb up the couch. You stand up on this wobbly child-size plastic chair we have. You can go up or down stairs just as fast as I can.   You climbed from your rocking chair onto your DRESSER. Then stood up on the dresser. On the fourth of July, you didn't even flinch at the fireworks (even the M80s!). You looked, pointed, and then clapped and wanted more.  Seriously, I'm having a heart attack, someone pass me some aspirin. 

Your fearlessness really manifested itself during our two swimming outings. 

This kind of swimming is for babies.

We went to Two Rivers State Park this month, and you absolutely loved swimming in the river. You'd dunk your face right in and try to paddle out. Jared and Kimberly took turns swinging you through the swift currents of the water and you thought it was the best thing ever. I had you in a swim float for babies, and you wanted nothing to do with it - you wanted to be free, you wanted to be in the water, you wanted to be going. So you climbed out of it, face first into the water. And thought that giving me a heart attack was the best thing ever - you came up smiling and laughing.

A week later, we went to the annual Fourth of July part at the G's house. We've been going forever, and your dad for years before that. It's a big food/swimming/firework extravaganza (that I hope, when you are reading this, you recognize because we're still going!).  I've been looking forward to having a kid to take swimming since the start. And it figures - I forgot my swimsuit. Argh. I ran to the store to get one (hint: don't go swimsuit shopping in July; there is NOTHING left to choose from), because there was NO WAY I was going to miss this, so if you're $40 short on your college fund it's because I wasted money on yet another swimsuit. I thought maybe you would be more apt to like the baby float in the pool because there was no current and you couldn't touch the bottom. Nope. We got in the water and you immediately crawled out and faceplanted into the water. I took you out and put you on a floating lounge chair instead, which was pretty much the best thing you've ever experienced in your life. You crawled back and forth on it, tried to stand up (and succeeded a few times...we need to get you into surfing lessons!), jumped off of it, dove off of it, and slid off of it. You'd hold onto my hands across the mat and have most of your body in the water, and you'd kick around and splash and dunk your head and laugh your ass off. You wanted nothing more than for me to let go of you and let you swim already, geez, mom, are you going to hold my hand the rest of my life???! You had no sense that you couldn't just swim. 

Ignore my gross face and focus on the fact that the kid is trying to stand up on a float in the water. 

In bad-parent news that is related to this fearlessness, you fell down the stairs. I knew it was going to happen. We can't baby gate our stairs because of the way they are set up (in a wide V-shape going down, with nothing to attach to on either side), so I have been dreading this moment. I've managed to always protect you up until the other day, when you were walking by them and took a step right off the edge. I leapt over the ottoman to get to you but couldn't reach you in time, and I just heard a series of sickening thumps and then wailing. Luckily, they are short stairs (only six of them) and luckily you weren't going down fast and luckily it's "just" vinyl linoleum at the bottom and not granite or something.  So no major injuries, though you did cut your lip on your teeth and bled all over yourself and me for the second time in your life (the first was a few months ago visiting Nana in Dubuque).

 

You may be becoming a pack rat. You choose the most random things to be attached to and carry around...my wallet (I eventually got you one of your own), your bath towel (which you slept with one night), your shoe (which you also slept with, and woke up grasping the next morning), a crocheted cocoon photo prop, a water bottle, my bikini top (wtf?), a headband, a bag of pistachios, a plastic bag, a piece of trash...each one lasts anywhere from a few hours to a few days, but it's never longer than a week. I have tried to push a "real" lovey on you but you're not interested. "What is this soft, cuddly piece of shit? Where is that crinkly death trap from Target?!?" you seem to ask, as you throw the soft lovey out of the crib.

 You dance and nod your head all the time, if you hear even the slightest hint of a beat. You love carrying things around in the crook of your arm. When you're pooping, you stop what you're doing, squat, and grunt. You are still an incredible mess maker.  You want to do anything I'm doing, whether that's doing dishes or putting on shoes. You love to play in running water.  You and the dog are best buds.  You point to and talk about everything around you. You notice it all.  You are so sweet and so gentle and so loving (but if you aren't feeling it, you'll bat them away!). If you get hurt, you don't want to cuddle; you want to walk it off, and you immediately tackle again whatever it is that hurt you (for instance, when you fell down the stairs, the first thing you did afterward was go down them, as if to prove that you can, never mind what just happened).  During your rare sad times, you dramatically lower your head to the floor and wail. It is adorable. 

I've written this before, but it continues to be true: You are so happy and so funny and so easy going. You laugh and smile at anything. You LOVE people. You've learned to say "hi" and when to say it, and you will great EVERYONE you see with "Hi! Hi! Hi!" and your bright smile. Even me, even when I've just run down to do a load of laundry. I get a toothy grin and a "Hi!" when you see come back up the stairs. I put an owl decal up in your room, and you noticed it immediately next time you woke up. Now, it too is greeted with a "Hi!" and excited wave whenever you catch a glimpse of it.  My favorite, though, is when you do it right after you wake up. You cry when you wake up, then I bring you in our room, and you lay with us and nurse for 30 minutes to an hour, drifting in and out of sleep. But once you've fully woken and you're done nursing, you'll pop up with a bright "Hi!", look over to make sure daddy saw you and give him a "Hi!" too, and then lean over the bed to say "Hi!" to Riley. Every morning, in that order. I will cry when you stop doing that and when you stop your greetings to strangers. The reactions from everyone to your "Hi"s and your smiles are the best. You truly, honestly make the world a brighter place.  Your cousin Ayah often asks disdainfully, "Are babies supposed to be this happy all the time?" 

We've continued doing things: We also went to an outdoor movie at the Holland Arts Center (where you became the mascot to everyone in the vicinity, and about a dozen people groaned when you fell while walking and faceplanted into the ground, then cheered when you got up smiling), to the Summer Arts Festival (which I vividly remember attending last year, pregnant with you!), to the zoo and Westroads play area (both staples!), and an amazing inflatable light/sound art installation called Architects of Air (which you absolutely loved). We went on a swimming playdate at Baby Leah's house. We tried to spend the night at Aunt Kimber's house, but you were too fascinated by her cats and all that was available to play with to go down to sleep. When you were still fighting sleep at 11 at night, I gave up and came home, where you immediately crashed.  You had your first Fourth of July, which, true to form, you loved.

Your hair is even lighter and more curly. Your eyes are still a very dark blue, with a light ring of hazel in the middle - although I have some pictures of you where they are bursting with blue, and others where they look almost brown.  I have given up on predicting what they are going to do (I've never seen an adult with eyes like yours, so I can only see them getting lighter or darker, but I can't imagine they'll stay this same color. You are tall, with a big head, one dimple, and wonderfully chubby baby legs. You have five and a half teeth - two on bottom, three on top, and one threatening to come through any day now.  You have a gorgeous, infectious smile. 

You are beautiful. 

You are smart. 

You are determined. 

You are vivacious.

You are wonderful.

You are sweet.

You are mine. 

(And I guess your dad's.) 

We love you more than anything. This has been the best year of my life, of your dad's life, of our lives. We can't wait too see what the next year brings.

Happy birthday, sweet pea!



Love, 
Mama

Letters to Carrots : Month Eleven

 May 7 - June 7, 2012

Dear Carys,

You. You, you, you.

You are eleven months old.

Let me say that again, so it sinks in.

Eleven. Months. Old.

Pardon my French, but: WHAT THE HELL?







This is your last month as a baby. Next month, you're officially a toddler (although I think some days, you look positively MONTHS older and so toddler-ish already).

And...surprise...toddle you do! You have officially started walking.

You will take anywhere from 2 or 3 to 10 or 15 at a time, depending on your mood and who you're walking too, and at the very end of your tenth month you do it regularly.  Not to brag, but you'll almost always walk to me because you obviously love me most. You'll walk to others on your own terms, but you almost always will come to me. If you don't feel like walking, you buckle your legs and collapse to the floor in a hilarious dramatic move. But this is rare. You always. want. to. walk. ALWAYS. You have this way of grabbing someone's hand, and before they know it they're trapped walking you around the house forever. You won't let go, and if they force you to (by peeling your fingers off of their fingers), you'll do the aforementioned collapsing move and cry while looking for someone else to trap. Not that we don't love walking you around, darling, but it is hell on the back after five minutes.

You spread the "hunched over backache" around to many family members this month who were gathered here for your Aunt Jenna's wedding, which was the big event this month. So many events for the wedding!

The Adkins girls (now Hanlon and Kessell) at the rehearsal dinner.

With the beautiful bride

 

With dada at the wedding

I loved your little dress, and you loved my bouquet.

 

The wedding was beautiful and their love was beautiful and your Uncle Jared was VERY happy by the end of the night...

 

...but the best part of the whole thing was seeing my Aunt Mary Jo and Aunt Theresa and cousin Erin who we don't get to see very often, but who we miss wildly. We hung out almost every day they were here, and it was all I could do to let them leave. I miss them already. It was the first time Mary Jo and Erin had met you and you, of course, charmed their socks off.

You are such a good, funny, sweet baby. You offer up these shy smiles (deceptively shy!) and anyone who is on the receiving end is just a total goner.

What else are you? A TOTAL MESS MAKER. You know that Fiddler on the Roof song? "Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match..."? I sing that to you, only it goes, "Messmaker, messmaker, making a mess...". You're a little tornado.

You also got to see your cousin (second cousin) Anika quite a few times - she's straight up walking everywhere, so you have three weeks to catch up with her to stay even!  At one point I took both of you to the zoo and pushed you around a double stroller and delighted in everyone thinking I had (very) fraternal twins.

Later that night, Sunny dropped Charley off for a little bit, so for a short period of time it was like I had triplets! It went smoothly until it was bedtime - then I was glad your Aunt Kimber was there to help! But the cuteness of three babies overwhelmed.

During the wedding craziness, I got the chance to go out with Erin and her boyfriend Mike and some other family members a few times WITHOUT YOU. I know. WHAT? I've been out without you a handful of times before - shot a few weddings, gone to a bachelorette party, gone on a few dates with Dada - but this was easily the most time away from you in the shortest time frame.  (Honestly? I know it makes me one of those moms, but most of the time we'd rather go out with you than without you - but you're not exactly appropriate for a pub crawl!) Your dad got to hang with you a few times, but your Nana really pulled through for us and watched you quite a bit. She took you to the zoo while Dada and I went to a movie and had sushi (your future favorite food if you want to remain my daughter).  Shortly before that, she took you to the botanical gardens with Mary Jo and Theresa while your dad and I took a flying lesson (yes, Carys, if you're reading this in the future, back in the day, we were that awesome).

Nana just loves you SO much and you are so good for her every single time. You've yet to cry for  her and she always raves about how great you did. You so rarely cry, period, that it shouldn't surprise me.  Seeing your bond grow this summer after she has been so far away for much of your live has been so fulfilling, and her leaving at the end of this summer to go back to work is going to rip my heart out, I know.  Kimber, however, remains your FAVORITE EVERYTHING OF ALL TIME, EVER and you will go to her over me at times. Sob. No, no, it's fine. I'm sure it's just that you see me all the time so it's a special treat to get to hang out with her and that's why you choose her over me. But she can't give you milk and I can, so overall I STILL WIN.

Reading with Immer

Besides walking, the big development this month has been sleeping through the night with nary a peep. You had been going to bed at 8:30ish and waking up about 8:30ish, with maybe 1-2 wake ups a night (three if it was a bad night, zero on good ones). If you woke, you'd latch on and immediately zonk out again most times, though there were a few bad nights you'd want to be up for a couple hours, and on those nights I seriously considered selling you to the Gypsies. But overall the wakings didn't bother me too much. I'm a light sleeper and get up that often anyway, and the brief time you were awake didn't seem to affect the overall amount of sleep I got. So I didn't actively try to improve it or do anything to make you to sleep through the night. And you were still getting plenty of sleep. But suddenly a few weeks ago, you just...DID IT. Nothing I did contributed - you were just ready. (After watching 100 women in my mom group go through every possible sleep issue and type of sleep training, I am pretty sure most of a kid's sleep patterns are based on the individual kid and not anything the parents do or don't do.)  It did move your wake-up time up a little, so now you usually wake up between 7:30 and 8 instead of between 8:30 and 9, which I could do without, but hey! You sleep through the night every night (knock on wood)! We'll take it. Although I am sad to report that I don't feel any more rested thanks to the previously mentioned light sleeping.  You still nap once in the morning for two hours like clockwork, and usually have a second two hour nap a few hours after the first one ends (sadly, I can't take advantage of your naps - I'm not a napper and just can't sleep during the day).

We did got bit of grief from a family member or two for not letting you cry it out, but while that works for a lot of people, it wasn't for us. Or you. I gave it a shot once or twice, but you would get so worked up it took longer to calm you down when I eventually had to go in than if I'd just gone in and nursed you back down.  In the long run, it just wasn't something I saw as a problem and I knew you'd get there eventually, so it wasn't something I tried to "fix."

I'm desperately hoping that cutting the rest of your teeth don't mess up your sleep schedule too much. You just cut your third top tooth (fifth total) and I can see teeth numbers six, seven, and eight on their way in as well. You are constantly chewing your hand because of it, and you bite sometimes. Arms, legs, clothes.

Thank GOD, however, that you've only ever bitten me while nursing once. My squeal of pain was enough to scare you to the point of tears and you never did it again. I'm thankful, because if you'd kept biting, we might have had to stop, and I love nursing you - it's the one time you'll settle down and let me cuddle you!  You've learned the sign for "milk" and you'll sign it, making sure I see it by waving your fist in my face, and then lean in for the nursing session. It's probably the most adorable thing I've ever seen, you purposefully putting your little baby fist up in the air and opening and closing those chubby fingers, and KNOWING what you're doing and what it means and what will happen. We're so close of making it to my first goal of nursing a year, so YAY US!  Besides the whole "birthing you thing" that's one of the things I'm most proud of.  (When you're reading this as a 15 year old are you mortified that I'm talking about nursing you? Would it mortify you more if I told you that you are a TOTAL boob-monster and you love nursing?).

You eat full on real people food now. Not that we ever did cereals or purees, but you eat everything we eat, no matter how spicy or flavored. If we're eating something really shitty in terms of health (which is more often than it should be) I'll make you something else, but you've had everything from Indian food to steak to sushi. I'm sure we'll go through a "ketchup and jelly sandwiches only!" phase at some point, but for now it's so gratifying to see you exploring new foods and textures and flavors. You love turkey meatballs and noodles and peas, and all fruit.  And cheese, much to my chagrin. You also love trying to eat with a fork, which is hilarious since you obviously can't, you know, eat with a fork. Dexterity is lacking and all that. But you'll try your damnedest to stab something and get it in your mouth. When that fails, you'll use your other hand to hold it on the fork and then bring it to your mouth that way, which is brilliant and so adorable.





You've been "dressing yourself" for a while - meaning that if I put a shirt over your head, you can find the arm holes and put your hands through them. One of your favorite things to do is to keep your hands inside the sleeves until I ask, "Where are your hands??" and then you'll pop them out and laugh at your own cleverness and ability to trick Mama.  You love to clap and you love to wave and you LOVE to point at everything (but mostly the dog). You've re-discovered "peek-a-boo" and delight in hiding your face until I ask, "Where's Carys?" and you pop out and giggle.

This month was full of trips and outings.

Children's Museum with Dad, where you went on your first carousel ride.

Zoo with Max (goats!).

 

Westroad's play area with the playdate babies...many times. We usually hit it up once a week or so. Which means that I've become addicted to Scooter's Coffe smoothies.

Feeding frenzy at playdate (babies aged 9 to 15 months, which is hilarious 
since you're all pretty much identical in size)

Park and fountain with more of the playdate babies.

You were SO brave and loved the water. 

You are so gentle and loving. You love Riley (your dad's gotten you guys to play tug of war and you both are so gentle with each other, and after you wake up in the morning the first thing you do is lean over the bed, point to Riley, and say, "Dog! Doggie!"). You love Nissa, Nana and Grandpa's cat. You love the goats and rabbits at the zoo and Aunt Ana and Funcle FJ's new puppy Kaikala (if we're being honest, so do I!). Anything soft and fluffy. You gently pet them, stroke their ears, you rub your face on their fur, you kiss them (your wonderful open-mouth baby kisses). You've even taken to rubbing stuffed animals on your cheek. And I can't forget your newest "stop-my-heart-it-is-so-sweet" move - the head touch. You softly tilt your head towards the lucky recipient and rest your forehead on them. Sometimes it's a forward tilt, sometimes a side tilt, sometimes a back tilt. You've done it to all of us, Great-grandma, the dog, the cat, your favorite book...anything you love.  And it is heart-stopping-ly precious.

Aunt Ana and Funcle FJ with their new puppy

Your dad taught you to run your finger over your lips to make that "lub lub lub" sound. You'll do it yourself, but you like us to do it for you. You'll start making the sound then come over and put your mouth on our hand until we do it for you. You think it's just wonderful.

You've REALLY discovered music and love to shake your head and dance to it. You push the button on your Weeble house over and over until a specific song comes on and will bop around for the ten seconds it places, then repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

We got you a cheap wallet from Target, because your favorite thing is to empty mine. We filled yours up with expired gift cards and hotel card keys and it positively captivates you. You fill and empty it over and over and over and it's your all-time favorite toy.  You also love books, still, and your Laugh N Learn house, and things you aren't supposed to have, like my computer and camera and charging cords.

For a while, you were testing this new theory you'd developed, where you believed that responding to something being taken away from you with tears would get you the object back. We didn't acquiesce, so it petered out in seconds, but it was amusing to see you test it. And I wonder how you ever thought that would work or how you knew to try it?  Or, on another note, when and how you figured out that the word "dog" refers to dogs of all shapes and sizes. Or that bopping your head around to music was a thing to do. I wish I could be in your brain for just a day to see how it works. I'm sure it's completely amazing.

How could it not be? YOU are amazing. You are just pure sweetness and light.  Every moment I'm with you I have to refrain from squeezing you and biting your delicious cheeks and kissing you in that spot on your neck that makes you squeal with laughter.  You're totally enchanting, and we're all under your spell. In fact, just writing this and thinking about how wonderful you are makes me want to go wake you up for one more cuddle.

Kid, I love you so much. Don't ever doubt this.

 

Hugs and kisses and kisses and hugs and love and love and love,

Mama