Wednesday, March 6, 2013

My Not-So-Terrible Two Year Old

   I haven't been blogging lately. At least not much. I haven't been working on my book lately either. At all. But I have been writing lately. More than in a long, long time. I lost it for a couple of months there, and in the process I kind of lost myself as well. But I've recently reacquainted myself with the lost (to me) art of journaling. And in that journal I've begun documenting the parts of my life I usually forgot to write about. Moments. The fleeting kind. I am far more accustomed to writing about ideas and opinions. Stories are somewhat new territory to me. But it is the area in which I feel most compelled to improve. Because it scares me and thrills me the most. It has less concrete parameters. In stories I feel as though my safety vest has been removed and I must rely solely on myself to keep the narrative afloat. Myself and that finicky little thing called memory... a trait, if you will, that I have, but not not the most trustworthy among them.

   So I have been here and there writing down seemingly minor observances of and interactions with my son. The type of things that I always tell myself I will remember, for their sweetness or humor, but never do. For above all I am forgetful. I am that mother who always answers the "How's your kid?" questions with "awesome! He's growing so fast and he's hilarious..." followed quickly by an awkward pause and a blank stare as I try to think up recent examples. Because I can't, and I feel so awful about it. These moments are worth remembering... and so I'm taking it into my hands, literally, with pen and paper, to lock them into permanence of the only kind I know:

Tuesday February 28th 2013:

   I knew I shouldn't have let him play with that darned thing! What kind of mother let's her kid run around with an uninflated balloon between his teeth? A teeny tiny water balloon no less? The nurse at the doctors office said she'd call back after consulting him... Oh that must be her right now! "Yes? Ok... yes, I understand. I just wanted to be on the safe side. Yes, he's eating, drinking and breathing just fine. The coughing stopped. Honestly I don't even know if he swallowed it, I just know I turned around for a second and he was gagging. He said he swallowed something but wouldn't tell me what and I can't find the balloon anywhere! ....Oh MY GOODNESS, I feel like such an idiot for even calling! He just walked up to me now... balloon in hand. He must have gagged on something else. I'm so sorry!"

Friday March 1st 2013:

   Bastian is across from me at the kitchen table as I write this. Sitting in a bar-height chair without restraints, eating his turkey and Muenster grilled sandwich (and sweet potato fries) in strips... because Daddy discovered the other day that he prefers it over the smaller squares.
   He picks up a particularly long fry in his hand that is shaped, at least the way he is holding it, like an upside down "U". He gives me a sly smile and says "it's eensy weensy spider; mom." ...he already says Mom in the way of a teenager. The way that elicits a silent "Duh" on the end... only from him it bears a bit more excitement and wonder. Thank God. I don't think I could bear the sound without it.

Tuesday March 5th 2013:

   My heart soared and burst into a billion tiny pieces just now. Bastian, on the couch next to me, trying his best to keep his balance as he half jumps, half stands tip toed, each leg doing it's own thing... "I can Fly Mommy! .... Bastian not flying" the facial expression synonymous to a motherhood punch to the gut forming on his adorable little face. It's only the beginning I think to myself as I try to figure out whether to smile or cry... and I hug him to hide the bewilderment on my own face.

Wenesday March 6th 2013:

   The first thing Bastian said to me this morning was "Spatula!" As I walked down the stairs he held it up and repeated the word Daddy had just said as if it was some great treasure. Just now, maybe, I don't know, a half hour later, this interchange took place:
Bastian (holding spatula pinched between shoulder and ear): "I'm making a phone call!"
"Bastian making phone call!"
Me: Smile and what I believe to be a look of encouragement.
Bastian: "I making a phone call"
"Bastian making a phone call Mom!"
Me: "Cool"

The above was repeated in similar variations a few more times until I realized that "Cool" wasn't cutting it for him

Bastian: "I'm making a phone call!"
Me: "Who are you calling Bastian?"
Bastian: "It's not a phone Mom!!"


   So... I am definitely a little late to the game when it comes to recording milestones, but I've got to say that for all the mental resistance I gave the idea, it feels pretty incredible to be mother/record-keeper now that I am doing it.  

Doing it my own way.

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