He's Dancin'

You may notice that a lot of these blog posts have to do with Jack's penis. That's not because I'm obsessed with it, but more because as a little boy I think that he's hard-wired (any and all puns intended) to be obsessed with it. This next snippet, however, comes from Chris... I got the following text while at Spin this morning...

Really... do I have to say anything more?

A new first..

Today was a new first. I usually celebrate the firsts. The first smile, the first laugh, the first time sitting up, rolling over, standing up, walking, running, the first "I love you"... but today was a different first. Today, for the first time, Jack said, "I hate you Mommy." In that 1.3 seconds my heart broke. I know that's a lot to put on a 3 year old - the ability to break a grown woman's heart - but he did break my heart. I walked out of his room, fulfilling his request to be alone, going into my own room and crumbling into a pile of sadness, laying on the bed bawling like a 16 year old who just learned that her crush likes someone else. After a few moments, however, I realized that he, too, was hurting. Maybe not hurting in the same way, but hurting in such a way that he felt he had to use a word he didn't really know, didn't know the weight or full meaning of, but knew it was bad and wanted to use it to hurt me. So up I pulled myself from the bed, pulled myself to my feet, stood up like a big girl, and walked into his room. I collected him in my arms, kicking and screaming, angry with me, laid him on the bed, and I sang. And he protested. And I sang. And he protested. And I told him I love him more than he'll ever know. And eventually he acquiesced. And he told me he loved me. And I was still hurt, but I realize this is not the last time he will say those words, and it was not the last time I would be hurt by this little man. And it will all be ok. 

I'm talking to myself

I pretty much love the phase Jack is going through right now. On a regular basis we'll hear him talking away, and when I ask him to repeat himself he replies with, "Mommy, I'm talking to myself." And he is. He's talking about things that happened, things that never happened, things he wishes would happen, etc., Sometime he even complains about me and my husband - to himself. I guess that's what's so fun is that he suddenly has this full and complete sense of self. It's just so interesting to me to think of him as a little person, no longer a baby..

It's getting bigger, and bigger, and bigger...

You know what they say about little boys - above all else they love their penises. Well, that is true enough in the Smith household. 


The other day, as we were sitting on the sofa, Jack in the middle, Chris to his left, me to his right, he turned to me and said, "Hey, Mommy, sometimes, when I'm sitting here, my penis, it just gets bigger, and bigger, and bigger, and bigger. When I'm a big big boy it's gonna be HUGE! It won't even fit in my undies." Me: Um, ah, ok... Daddy can tell you all about that...


Another great Jackism... "Mommy, sometimes when the teachers have to wipe my penis with wipes it gets longer and longer." Me: Um, ah, ok... Daddy can tell you all about that...

From Baby to Big Boy - Overnight

As I write this post I'm keeping an eye keenly on Jack's video monitor. It's funny, I'm not sure I've watched the monitor quite so keenly since Jack's first night in his room, just under three years ago. Tonight I watch because it's Jack's first night in his big boy bed. We've known this was coming, we've talked a lot about it and have worked to get him used to the idea of this transition. This morning Jack stayed in his crib for much longer than usual before beckoning for me. He talked to his stuffed toys and loveys about tonight's transition, telling them that they'd be sleeping in a big boy bed from now on. When I was summonsed we rocked in our comfy chair and talked about tonight. He turned to his crib and said, "B-bye crib" and blew it a kiss. It was sad, but I know this is an important milestone and he needed the opportunity to say good-bye to the only read sleeping place he's ever known.


My husband and I worked feverishly preparing the room, co-ordinating deliveries and setting things up as the day wore on. At right around 5 we were as done as we could be (still waiting on a few things to be delivered). I went to pick him up at school and we brought him up to his room. He immediately ran to his bed, climbed up on it, and started to jump on the bed while he yelled, "this is amazing!" We think he likes it! He later went on to say, "this is so awesome" while he walked around and assessed the room. He excitedly pointed out the train photo and told us that he wants to go for a ride on that train. He climbed up the chair to reach the top of the book shelf to take down the Winnie the Pooh music box my Dad & Linda gave me and asked me to teach him to wind it. He audited his stuffed toys and counted his pillows. He did things that babies just don't do. That's probably because he's a big boy now. 

Siiiiiiing, sing a soooonnngg...

Not surprisingly, I sing lots of silly made up songs for Jack. This morning's went something like this:


We're going to pre-school
Because we are so cool
We'll listen to all the rules
And hope that there are no fools


Yay pre-school
I hope that we don't drool
Or fall of of a stool
That would be so not cool...


And on it went. After it shook Jack from the bit of a sleep-bear funk he was in I assumed that the singer-songwriter portion of my morning had ended. Much to my surprise I heard a request for encore from the back seat. 


Jack: Mommy, can you sing that again?
Me: Jack, I was just being silly, nobody likes mommy's songs!
Jack: Well, Mommy, I do


And on I sang. How could I resist, really?

No! I will not be a good boy, Mommy!

My child is sweet. He's loving. He's caring. He's a real treasure. He's also a sleep-talker. At about 2 this morning I heard,, "No! Mommy, I already said no! I am NOT going to be a good boy! I said no." This was without the monitor, with the door closed, and he was speaking so clearly, and really at the top of his little lungs -- completely asleep! It's funny, I'll give you that, but at the same time it's sort of terrifying. I mean, here he is, just a few days into his third year, and he's plotting his revolt against me in his sleep. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, we're in trouble!

Happy Third Birthday Little Man

Yesterday was Jack's third birthday. It's hard to believe that at 2:32 PM just over three years ago we heard the words "it's a boy!" I remember parts of labor and deliver like it was yesterday and others parts like it's a story someone told me, a book I read, a movie I saw. Regardless, I'll never forget looking at him for the first time and thinking "I will do everything in my power to give you the best life possible and I will love you more than you'll ever, ever realize."

Fast forward three years - we've had lots of firsts.. first bath, first head lift, first time rolling over, crawling, words, steps, running, sentences, arguments. Yes, I said arguments. Our child is a "willful" child. Early on he wasn't - he was the ultimate go-with-the-flow child. Other mothers in mommy class would look at us and I knew some were at least a little envious because Jack was just so easy going. Not so much any more. 

Yesterday we woke up to hear, "Mommy! Can you come in here?" I took more than the typical 0.3 seconds to respond and we heard the this as a follow-up: "she is not coming in here. What is taking her so long??" With a day that starts like that how did I think the rest of it would go? 

I decided that for his birthday I'd take the day off and we'd have a Jack & Mommy day. It would be idillic - we'd go to the Children's Museum, bonding over an educational and yet fun activities, then we'd head to the Rainforest Cafe to eat among the elephants and monkeys and parrots (oh my!) Next would be build-a-bear where Jack would choose a bear and some clothes and it would be oh so cute. Well, the best laid plans...

At 9:30 when we were to leave for the museum little mister had a meltdown. Not a normal run-of-the-mill meltdown, a full-fledged three-year-old meltdown, complete with "I don't want to go with you. I want my Daddy. I do not like Mommy." *sigh* After nearly 25 minutes we got out the door. I got to hear during much of the ride how little he wanted to be with me and that he just wanted to go to pre-school. Again, *sigh*.

We went to the museum, and we had a great time. I mean, there was the cup or so of water that he poured over the head of the little blond girl, but I'll tell myself that he was just awkwardly flirting. It was fun. 

There were meltdowns, but nothing that I wouldn't deal with in order to spend time together again. That little teeny baby that I held in my arms just three short years ago was little Mr. Independent, climbing three stories in the play structure without a care in the world, using his mind and his body like a little miniature person. 

We did go to lunch and had a great day (after an impromptu nap for both us us in the mall parking lot! Now you see why I'm vying for mother of the year these days), and we built a bear that was cute as can be. 

The follow up of our adventure was some snuggle time on the sofa watching the Little Engine that Could and some train time (anyone *other* than Jack who knows me know that I hate trains, but mark my words, I will play trains with him because I know that someday he won't want to play anything with me, so I'll treasure these times!) Then out to dinner with Daddy, home for cake and presents, and the day was done. His third birthday is officially in the books (party to take place next week, so celebrating is not in the books, but the birthday itself is). We made it the first three years without many scars, and it's been the most incredible adventure of my life to date. 

Almost a big boy

This past weekend a major transition took place in our household. Well, perhaps I'm being a little bit dramatic... the first step of a major transition took place in our household. Let me back up. Before Jack was born (a day or two shy of three years ago), like many expectant parents, my husband and I created the perfect nursery for our bundle of joy. Our nursery planning involved registering and shopping and picking out the perfect paint colors sanding the textured ceiling and math. Math? Yup, lots and lots of math. The walls and ceiling were to be transformed into a circus tent, and me being the person that I am, I wanted to to be perfect. And it was.



But here we are, three years later, and our baby is no longer a baby; he is a full-fledged little boy, and although our life is much like a three-ring circus, his room should no longer be. So we found ourselves ready to choose a new theme for a big boy room, complete with new furniture, new paint, etc, 


In anticipation of furniture arriving next week we decided that it was time to paint. My mother in law graciously agreed to come up to help us with cloud-painting on the ceiling, my mother graciously agreed to watch Jack while we painted, and my incredibly dear husband graciously agreed to meticulously go through and sand the junction of every stripe on the ceiling and walls. I needed to pick out a couple of paint colors, be the master fetcher of all things Home Depot and Lowes related, and pitch in by using my surgeon-steady hands to cut in (ha!). 


Two days, approximately 30 manhours, later, we were done. The walls are painted, there's not even the hint of a circus stripe, the clouds are amazing - it was time for the big unveiling. We told Jack what were were doing to a) get him prepped for the change and b) make sure he knew that his big boy furniture wouldn't yet be there. We all marched up the stairs to show him our masterpiece, and in he ran to stop short, look around, and say "what happened to my stripes?" Bahahahaha. He later followed that up with "you guys have a lot of work to do!" Gosh, I love this kid.

They're just a bunch of ducks!

Not unlike most parents, I really do try to watch my language in front of Jack. That said, sometimes I forget that minding my language is about more than not using the F word or sniping "shit" when I drop something. 


Yesterday we were driving and, true to form, we were behind someone who was indecisive and, therefore, stopping me from getting to where I was going as quickly as possible. In an effort of full disclosure I quickly become frustrated by drivers who are not as decisive as I am - if you don't know where you're going then please pull over to figure it out rather than affecting everyone else. But I digress... 


Jack could tell I was frustrated and asked what was going on. Without really thinking I said, "oh, nothing, that person is just an idiot." To which Jack replied, "Mommy, from now on when people are idiots we should call them ducks. And that man is a BIG DUCK." I don't know what the kid has against ducks, but I like this new plan!

I am not annoying, I am a GREAT MAN

It's not surprising that I think Jack is one of the funniest children alive. I'm pretty sure that every parent feels this way about his or her child. Here's the thing though - I'm pretty sure I know this to be true, as a fact, just as water is wet and fire is hot. You need proof, you say? OK, you asked for it.


While I was traveling I got the following text from Chris:
"Jack is in the kitchen playing with his trains. I just heard him say 'I am not annoying, I am a GREAT MAN!"


I mean, come on, he's not even three. Where does he come up with these things?

Another story? OK, twist my arm. 


My mum was sitting with him when he looked up at her and said, "Nana, my mommy is on a trip." My mum affirmed this fact, but reassured him that I'd be back in a few days. Jack looked at the floor sullenly and said, "{deep sigh}... I may never see her again." My mum looked at him somewhat horrified and assured him that he would, indeed, see me again, to which he replied, "well, let's hope so. May I have some candy?" I mean, come on now - using the idea of his mother possibly abandoning him as a play for candy? That's comedy at its finest!

Today, We Officially Have a Preschooler

We've long been in this strange place of not wanting to refer to Jack's place of care while we're at work as a "school" because it's not really a school. It's also, however, not a "daycare" because there are learning goals and curriculum, etc., But today that all ends. Today, Jack is officially in school. He is, for good or for bad, a preschooler. 


I thought this may be a tough transition for the little man. We talked a lot about it, discussed that he'd cycle through different areas of the classroom, his circle time would be a little bit longer, he would be leaving Heather, his favorite teacher, as well as some of his friends. He seemed to take it all in stride. We've tried the preschool room out a couple of times over the last couple of weeks, he seemed to enjoy it. So today was the big day - the true transition - no turning back now. And off he went, showing me his new cubby, putting away his lunch, grabbing his teddy bear and heading to the story corner. I was glad there was a back door so that I could quietly slip out and he wouldn't see the tears pooling up in my eyes, about to spill over. I guess I wasn't prepared for how tough this particular transition would be for me!