Mr. Independent

I received a good amount of feedback on my Facebook status update this morning.

I lamented watching Scott walk/run into the daycare room all on his own, without even the slightest glance back at me and nary a thought in his little head (or so it seemed) for the mommy he left in his dust.

Most everyone sympathized, and a few mommies pointed out this independent streak is actually a good thing - my little boy is growing up and has the confidence to go forward without my help.

I guess I get that - its a good, and valid point. But his behavior still makes me a little sad.

When Scott was a baby - an infant - Jim and I talked about "when he's older." As in: we can't wait until he's older and he can interact with us, he won't wake up every three hours, we can take him places, he can talk and tell us what he likes and doesn't like.

Well, we're there.

Tank shows us everyday that he's becoming a strong little man. His own person. He can be fun and exuberant, whiny and willful.

As I watch him, I vascillate between incredible bursts of pride and pangs of longing and sadness. I love that he's developing his own likes, dislikes, fears, interests.

But he's becoming less and less a baby and I am constantly reminded of little things I miss:

--How he used to let me rock him to sleep in bed or in the comfy glider in his room, his head perfectly curled into the crook of my arm.


--How his little hand would grip my index finger while he drank his milk.


--How he used to splash like a Buddha baby in his infant bathtub. 

--How he loved to be bundled into his Miracle Blanket/swaddler at bedtime, but then would delight in kicking both legs simultaneously, like a prisoner trying to escape a straight jacket, until he propelled himself in a 180 degree half circle around his crib, wore himself out and fell asleep.

It wasn't too long ago that Scott actually DID fit in one of those Bumbo seats...now they just make  great play toys.

Everyone tells you when you have kids, time flies.

That is and isn't true.

Individual days can sometimes stretch out for an eternity and leave you feeling like you are wandering through a desert without even a mirage or the slightest hint of water.

But collectively, they zoom by in a mind-blowing blur.

If I've learned anything in the past 16-plus months, it is to enjoy every fleeting minute with my kid -- even the ones that make me want to rip my hair out at the follicles.

Because tomorrow, I am going to look up at the breakfast table at a six-year-old who his headed off to his first day of kindergarten. And one all too soon day after that, I am going to be helping my 18-year-old pack up his room for college.

(And for the record: On both those occasions, he will not be allowed to leave without at least SAYING goodbye to his mama.)

Scott, trying oatmeal for the first time.  Jan 2011

Scott, devouring his own turkey leg. December 2011.

Furry Red Muppet Monster Obsession

Elmo, the bedtime buddy.

What is it about the toddler brain that causes it to become utterly fascinated with a certain red muppet monster?

It's like someone flipped a switch deep within Scott's head and activated the "Elmo Obsession lobe."

Sure, the kid has long enjoyed "Play with Me Sesame," -- even breaking out into a big grin at the opening notes of the theme song. And I think his first crush was on Prairie Dawn, the little piano playing blonde-haired muppet girl.

But this is different.

Scott has a new, stuffed Elmo. It's permanently attached to him. It goes to the breakfast table, to daycare, he tried to bring it in the bath too.

Scott says only a handful of words with regularity -- "mama," "daa-da da da," "baww" (ball), "dahhnn"(down)...but suddenly, "Mem-MO" is in heavy rotation. He says it while pointing to the dog, as he's walking through the house, and whenever he enters his room.

The stuffed Elmo I bought him has become an extension of his body. Like a third arm. He has a Rock 'n Roll Elmo that plays drums, the tambourine and sings. For the past week, at bedtime and at naptime, he'll only let me read "Mem-MO" related books.

 

Elmo and Scott at the railroad park

Over and over and over and over again.

And there's a new insistence behind his voice. A sudden, underlying, "if you don't make the freaking red monster muppet thing appear RIGHT NOW I am going to have a complete, catastrophic meltdown" kind of tone.

So I guess we've officially entered the "Elmo Phase"...kind of makes me wonder if the good folks at Sesame Street have put some sort of subliminal messaging in their television show that only toddlers can hear and respond to.

Em-MO! I don't care if we've read it 400 times in the past two days, mommy. Read it AGAIN!!

The Ladies' Man

It's been almost one month since I last blogged. Between the holidays, a move, a trip out of town, and a new job at work, I've been way too busy to write.

(Check back soon for pics and thoughts on our trip to the Caribbean, our Christmas holiday and finally being in our new house.)

But this...this was too good. I had to type up a quick post.

I've always known (in a completely non-biased, non-helicoptery parent kind of way) that I had a cute kid. I also discovered shortly after his birth that the little girls agreed with me.

And now I know Scott, well, Scott is just like his daddy: he likes the ladies.

According to his daycare teachers, Scott has developed a new routine during group story time and milk time. He'll sit on the floor with the other kids, usually next to one of the little girls in the class.

Then, he'll face forward, look shyly to the side, face forward again, and then scoot an inch or two closer to the nearest girl.

A few seconds later, another face forward, another look, another scoot.

Apparently he inches himself over three or four times until he's positioned himself right next to his closest "girlfriend."

I say closest girlfriend, because apparently, my child doesn't play favorites. He runs his game on several of the little girls in the room.

As I said: like father, like son.
(And I know secretly Jim has never been more proud.)

Scott charms an older woman at a local restaurant. He approached, smiled and batted his eyes. She was immediately hooked.