Wednesday, February 23, 2005


Dear Isaac,

Two years ago today, I was lying in the bathtub trying to make my contractions ease up. I was so excited! So excited I didn't even mind the pain so much. (Of course, this was at least 30 hours before you were born; suffice to say, the pain got much worse.) But still, I was excited. Finally, I would meet you. You who had caused me SO MUCH SUFFERING in the form of morning sickness, dire pre-natal diagnoses, bed-rest, heartburn, and overstaying your welcome in my uterus. You would soon be here!

I cannot believe 2 years have passed. And I cannot believe how much has changed. How much YOU have changed.

I know that we are entering the terrible twos, and this means you are supposed to be extremely difficult and pig-headed. And in fact, you are. But you are also going through the absolute sweetest phase you have been through yet. (Aside from your newborn stage when you made up for being such a terrible in utero guest by being the world's best baby.) This is what it is like to be Isaac's Mom these days:

"Mommy? Mommy? Git up?"
"Good morning, sweetie. How did you sleep?"
"Giving a hug?"
"of course! Mmm"
"Giving a kiss?"

"Daddy working in the office?"
"No, Daddy's still sleeping."
"Poor Daddy. Giving a hug Daddy?"
"Yes, let's give Daddy a hug!"
"Giving a kiss to Daddy? Make Daddy all better?"

And so on. I don't know why you deciding that hugging and kissing was so much fun, but please, keep it up. It is the best feeling in the world for this Mom to get a big hug and smacking kiss from you.

Another really cute thing about you: you seem to really like your sister. I was all ready for you to ignore her or pretend she didn't exist, but that's not how it is with you. You think she's really funny. And you hate it when she cries. True, any toy she has is the toy that you need to have RIGHT AT THAT MOMENT, but generally speaking, when you snatch something out of her hands, you replace it with something else. You love kissing and hugging Vivi, too, and if she grabs your hair or clothes while you are doing it, that's a bonus.

You have recently begun singing. Singing came late to you, as most one year olds love to sing. However until recently, singing has never been your thing. In fact, whenever I start singing the ABC song, you always say "No ABC! NO ABC!" until I stop. The only song you permit me to sing is "Wheels on the Bus". And you refuse to sing a long with me. But suddenly just the other day, you want to sing. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is a favorite. You can sing a long with Wheels on the Bus. And you even sing the ABC song on occasion now. I'm not sure what changed, but hearing you sing is pretty dang cute. Unfortunately I don't know how to put a recording on a blog, or I would do so, for all the world to hear.

(One thing you should know: your mother is tone deaf. And your dad isn't much better. Although your singing is really cute, it's definitely not on key. So don't be thinking American Idol is in your future.)

Here's something I find strange: You weigh under 30 lbs, yet when you are walking around, your feet are so heavy, the whole house shakes. Really. It's kind of hysterical. You come stomping around the corner and there's no way we don't know you're coming, since it sounds like a herd of elephants. The candles shake in their sticks, the leaves on the house plants rustle, chairs rattle on their legs. And then there you are, grinning as always, and often with something in your hands that you are not supposed to have.

You have a great smile. And if I knew how to post a picture to a specific spot in a post, I would post one here. But I don't know how. So I'll just have to post it as a new entry later. Then all the people out in the blogosphere will have to agree with me--what a smile! Although you have become a little more shy lately and will rarely speak when a stranger talks to you, you always smile. And it's so cute no one generally minds that you won't answer their questions. (Note, I do mind. I'd like you to show off all your tricks to my friends. So when I say, "How old are you? Or "Can you count to ten?" It'd be great if you would actually speak, and show everyone how incredibly smart you are.)

Your favorite thing to do is "Keeping the mess" which translates to "cleaning up the mess". Although your pronunciation is actually more acurate, since there is rarely any cleaning going on. What this usually entails is sweeping, or mopping, or wiping the floors with a paper towel. Luckily for me, this provides minutes of entertainment for you. Not so luckily, the mop and the broom are considerably taller than you and you don't have quite the control over them that one would like to see. So as you are wielding them through the house, you inevitably knock things over or bang your mother or sister in the face. I do see the allure of the pile of crumbs that your mother has swept into the corner but not yet vacuumed up, but it would be a lot "cleaner" if you would just leave those piles be.

There are some areas that need improvement. Noteably: can we do anything about your attention span? I mean, I know you are two, but jeez. Mommy was not born to be an entertainer. Why is Elmo the only creature that can keep you quiet for longer than 5 minutes at a time? Remember all those great toys you got for Christmas? And how much fun it was to play with them for 5 minutes? Well, they are still here--and guess what? You could play with them again, for AS LONG AS YOU WANT. Like maybe 10 minutes. It would be fun! And then Mommy could lie on the sofa and close her eyes.

Also: the melt downs. It would be so much MORE fun to walk around the block with you if you did not have a complete screaming fit every 10 yards or so, because I won't let you eat the fertilizer the neighbor left out, or pet the stray german shephard that is foaming at the mouth, or run into the street without looking for cars. And going to the playground is considerably less fun for Mommy when everytime we have to leave you scream the scream of the terrified, or the horribly abused. Mommy does not like it when all the other mothers stare at her in horror.

But this is small price to pay for all the Isaac I get in my life. Even when you are being loud in your crib at night when you are supposed to be sleeping--even then you end up being impossibly cute, with your running litany of expressions: "No, Aga, don't do dat! No climbing!Trash truck comes once a week. Trash truck is NOISY. Aga want to look out da window. Mommy? Mommy? Mommy taking a nap. Mommy soo tired. Mommy have ice cream. I scream you scream we all scream. Vivi okay. Okay, Vivi? Giving Vivi hug?" And so on.

Oh, I almost forgot about the sweetest thing you do. You love love LOVE the feel of anything soft against your cheek. Especially skin to skin contact. So there we will be in the grocery store, and suddenly you'll stick your thumb in your moouth, grab my hand and start rubbing your cheek with it. It kills me everytime.

I fear I may never finish this post because there is so much about you I want to remember. I want to freeze you like this so I will never forget how exquisitely perfect you are. I am tempted to say "Don't get any older!" and "Stop growing!". Because the way you are now is so wonderful, how could you ever get better? Then again, I had the same thought when you turned 1. And look what I would have missed if you never changed from that.

So Happy Birthday, Wonderful Boy. I promise to relish in your "two-ness" this year, to try and live in the moment, appreciate your quirks, and stop working working working just to get to nap time every day.

I love you.

No comments: