So Big

Sometimes Benjamin enjoys hanging out in his crib. Really, I get him in the morning and he often requests to be put back in there. If I ask to pick him up, he says "oh" (which is "no") and continues to sit happily and body slam his pillow.

Thursday morning was no different. He had a lot to say and was pointing out various things in the room and the pointed to the framed picture (of like 10 of his relatives, including his mama, mind you) and said "Dad" on repeat.

I told him his dad loved him. And then I asked him how much he thought his dad loved him.

He threw out his arms and said "BIG".

We both tell him we love him big all the time and he's now starting to say it himself. There's no denying it... we love this little boy so BIG.

How Unfortunate

I'm in a little bit of a mood today (partially due to poor sleep), so I figured it was a perfect day to write about my stillborn son. Because that also makes me angry and sad. Which is a mood. And not a positive one.

The husband and I were chatting with a couple we didn't know the other day. Benjamin was off playing in the church and they asked about children. We chimed in about our 19-month old son. And then they asked if that was our only child. I told them we had a son before and he died at birth due to a cord issue.

Her response (as she held her 6-week old newborn girl, their third daughter)...

"How unfortunate."

That response caught me so off-guard that I couldn't even respond. The proper response to the tragedy of a lost life is empathy/sympathy and sadness. Something along the lines of I'm sorry or that's horrible would've been appropriate.

It's unfortunate when you leave the milk out on the counter and it spoils. Or when you get a flat tire. Or when your favorite team loses a game.

When your firstborn son dies, it's a whole lot more than unfortunate.

It makes me angry that other parents don't even see the value of human life. You're holding a newborn baby. What if someone took her away? She died in her sleep? Contracted a terminal illness?

I'd have a whole lot more to say to you than how unfortunate that would be.

Seasonal Changes & Library Love

It's not quite summer anymore, but it's not quite fall/winter. The water park has been closed for a few weeks. The weather hovers in between both warm and cool seasons and we're still plenty active outside. My grand design is to get B outside as much as possible in the warmer months (anything above freezing) because winter is-a-comin' and he's never been this mobile in the winter.

I'm scared. Are other stay-at-home-moms that don't live in Southern California scared?

Thankfully, I bought two snow bibs and a nice jacket that should serve us well when he absolutely must be in the snow. And I bought myself a rockin' pair of snow boots that will keep me from falling on my arse this winter. My pair is tan/red and I think it will make me more motivated to schlep the kiddo places and do things like purchase food for my family. There have been winters that I get very creative based on my complete disinterest to exit into the negative degree temps.

Back to my original topic. What to do during the day with a toddler who doesn't much desire being cooped up inside and dealing with my sheer boredom of the same local parks we already visited 347 times this summer...

I strategically plan for things like swim lessons and gymnastics (and other classes, etc.) to take place in the winter months. It allows him to release some energy and it gives us somewhere to go when the weather is harrowing. I have a whole list of places/activities that work for winter and summer days. Fall and spring are in-between and overlap.

Winter: local church we attend that has an indoor play area & ride-on toys, swim lessons, gymnastics, library storytimes, children's museum, playdates at friends' houses, indoor play area we pay $1 each time, seasonal fests...

Summer: local and drive-to parks, water park membership, library storytime, splash pads, children's museum, playdates, seasonal fests, exploring in our own backyard (or the yards of unlucky neighbors with no fences!)

On both of those lists... library storytime. Not only are we religiously at the library to check out books and puzzles each week (the educator in me), but we attend about 1-3 storytimes for different age groups and at different libraries. Libraries we're not even members at sometimes! When no registration is required, it's basically an open invitation for free social interaction, early literacy exposure, and entertainment.

Our local library only has one small branch because we live in a small town in a big suburb. There is a 0-2 storytime and a 2-3 storytime we're attending each week. And the other libraries in our school district (but not the library we have membership) have tons of storytimes at each of the branches run by different people, with different kids, and different stories. We attend a toddler storytime for 18mo-3 and a family storytime of a hodgepodge of ages. We've even gone to Barnes & Noble for storytime! They have a toy train set and a Starbucks that sells Cheesecake Factory cheesecake slices, so that's always a winner, even if the books aren't. Just about every day of the week offers a storytime within a 4-mile radius we can attend.

I know. Totally a library junkie. But I didn't mean for it to be that way. It just drives me looney when I look at the calendar and see _______ for the day's activities. I feverishly find somewhere for us to go in order to break up the monotony of being home all day long. It's not fair to Benjamin and Lord knows I'm bored!

Before you become all impressed about how studious we are, I'd like to point out that Benjamin spends the majority of the time being bribed with raisins to stay in the room, walking around and locating clocks, buttons, and opening any cabinets. And if there is a single electronic device that can be tinkered with at his level (or not, he requests "up please"), especially with bright lights or sound, he's off and running. The most recent storytime we went to, the lady was using a document camera. Right away I knew we lost him. He's not the kid who sits in my lap or happily participates in all the activities. That was my pre-walker. Now he cannot be bothered. And yet, we still attend. Because I figure a library is a fine place to explore where there are people, books, puzzles, and often times, a play area.

What's funny about observing his complete disinterest during storytime is that he loves books. He can't get enough. I don't read fewer than 50 books a day to this kid, and he has a name for most of the ones he loves. Thank heavens for a library card that allows me to check out other books that I haven't memorized. And yes, the sharing of germs simply have to be forgotten... otherwise we'd never leave the house.

I mean, this is the same kid who sucked on the stylus pen at the Target checkout a week ago. That still haunts me.

98 Days. Gulp.

I read on a blog today that we're under the 100 day mark until Christmas. Which means we're close to 2014. Which means we are even closer to a certain beloved boy's 3rd should-be-awesome-but-it's-gonna-suck birthday.

I won't carry on about the cool things he'd be doing, saying, or bringing home from preschool. Okay, maybe that was enough.

Dang.

I'm never ready for the seasons to change because that means we'll be at another candlelight vigil {just like my friend Brooke commented about yesterday} instead of excitedly pulling out the Christmas ornaments and decorating the tree. We'll still do that, but it still stings. We decorated our tree and home hours before delivering Andrew. Then we got to come home to all that festive crap, making the holiday sting even more painful. Not that I wanted him to die ever, but I sure wouldn't have chosen a December doomsday.

We had to turn down a Christmas party already because it landed on the dreaded 5th and of course that day is not a day to party it up for our family. We'll have a sensible dinner at the same local restaurant we went to last year and a dessert in honor of our firstborn. We'll attend the remembrance ceremony, light a candle and hang an ornament on the multiple trees they provide at the local ceremony for our dead children.

Gulp.

Book Doctor

We need one in our house.

B is hard on books. Specifically, books with flaps, manipulatives and tabs. Problem is, he loves those very same books. {as an aside, I totally recommend Pat the Bunny}. I've attempted to save many-a-book and now we're dealing with random pieces strewn everywhere that I save and wait until naptime to repair.

And then... he promptly plucks the pieces I feverishly taped and mended at next "read" of the book.

My favorite part is that he looks at me with furrowed brow each time he reaches these pages as if some sort of injustice has been done. As if to tell me that I must respond immediately to the emergency and right the wrongs.

Oh sweet boy. You did it. You plucked those little birdie heads from the page not once, but twice. I'm done repairing them. The headless birdies shall remain until the book has been so demolished that it lands itself in recycling. #toddlershaming

Baby Jesus and his parents have taken a long vacation from this page.

The birds used to open their mouths with a pull tab.