When did you get so BIG?


It never ceases to amaze me how quickly these children of mine are growing. It's easy to see how Boo boo is growing and changing physically and even mentally. He has morphed from a blob, that was a (rather large to begin with) newborn baby, into this 5 month old who can roll over, reach for toys and practically sit up. He has two teeth that made an appearance somewhere in his fourth month, much earlier than I expected. Everyone says what a happy baby he is and really I agree, mostly. The thing is, he has these moments, or hours as the case may be, where he's just so not happy. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason for said unhappiness. He just starts fussing and crying and no amount of love or distraction is going to cheer him. When he's like this I spend my time alternately holding him or sitting him in one of the many infant entertainers I have at my disposal. Of course, then I feel guilty that I'm not just constantly holding him. Other than these fairly rare occasions, he's got the biggest, happiest smile. Do you remember those smiles? Where they smile with their whole body? Everything gets in on the act, legs, arms, fingers, head, etc. His mouth opens wide and sometimes he'll even giggle.

I've watched him grow and change, yet every day, I look at him and wonder when he got so big. When did he lose the pinched newborn face? When did he get an opinion about which toys he prefers or which end of the bed he'd rather have his head on (closest to the door)? How did it happen that we had to move everything chokable out of his immediate vicinity? Why do we have to strap him into everything lest he kick his legs and arch his back to get out of it? This is really not my most favorite age. I love the newborn baby who lets me do whatever, whenever. I love the 9 month old to about 18 months stage. They can get around and can entertain themselves for short periods, but they don't yet talk back, nor do they care whether they do it "myself". No, the entertain-me-constantly age is not my favorite and yet I find myself just thoroughly enjoying him. He's a flirt and a charmer. Those eyes look at me and I almost melt. When he can start reaching out to me I'm a goner.

Then there's Belle. Not only is she starting to do everything "me ownself", but she's actually doing it pretty well. She's quite the comedian without trying to be and I wonder when the moment was where she started to be able to make mental connections that were just so far beyond her only a couple of months ago. Physically, she is showing the least change. I think that she may be in size 2T until she goes off to school and now that we've had her hair evened out, we may never need to cut it again. I just can't find any apprecable physical change in the last four to six months or so. She has, however, figured out just the easiest way to get Bear in trouble and she is playing at a higher level. Just recently she has started demanding to choose her own clothes and don't even think about doing her hair unless she deems it appropriate. She's had a language explosion and now speaks in nearly complete sentences. Not that she always remembers to use her words, but we're getting there. One thing that I love is that she has figured out how to help, actually help. She can pick up toys and put them in the right spot, she can get me a towel or a diaper and can follow directions to throw things away and bring her dishes to the sink.

She's very much a two-year-old still. There is whining and a tantrum here or there. Even though she's getting good at doing things, it still takes forever to get them done. This is where my patience gets a run for it's money. I struggle between her need for independence and my need to get out of the house before evening rush hour traffic starts. Here lies the grass-is- always-greener dilema. Just weeks ago I was praying that she'd figure out how to put on and take off her own shoes and now I wish she'd just let me do it. We potty trained in June, because it was going to be so much easier not to have two sets of diapers to change. It is easier (and cheaper), however, now along with getting up to feed Boo boo twice a night, we (read usually I) get up at least once a night to accompany Belle to the bathroom. She wakes me from sleep, screeming as if someone were pulling her fingernails out one at a time. It seemed like a good idea.

Then there's Bear. She's going through a growth spurt (again). This will be the third one in a year. How do I know there's a growth spurt at our door? She's eating like it's going out of style and her legs hurt. Apparently one of them is hollowing out. Her face is gradually changing from toddler/preschool girl to growing up little girl. A nose and chin and cheeks that are taking on a true shape. Her hair grows daily, I swear. It's the mental changes that really get me, though. I can actually have a conversation with her now. One that not only makes sense, but is truly interesting. We can discuss what happened at daycare and I'm not left wondering how the dog made it onto the roof anyway. She's working hard at figuring out right and wrong and where her place in the family is. There are certain things that are easy. It's okay to jump in the jumper, not okay to jump in the bed. Then there are the murkier areas. Can one jump off the bottom step or how about the fourth step? Is it okay to eat the cereal under the couch? We struggle with tattling and what counts as tattling and when it might actually be okay. It took quite awhile, but she can spell her name, even recognizing the letters out of context and she's almost got Elly's down. The most exciting thing on our horizon is her entrance into preschool in a few weeks. I'm so happy, I could just cry. On the one hand, she's going on a new adventure and will be learning and growing and doing, but on the other hand I feel like I'm sending a baby (I mean a literal baby) to a world I don't get to be fully a part of. It's going to be great.