I just walked into the kitchen to find Jameson crouching Peepers style on a kitchen chair, gulping with gusto from my big icy drink. I would have taken a picture, but I didn't want him to steal any more of my treat, so I grabbed the cup from him as quickly as I could.
The kid is getting more sophisticated; there's no denying it. Not only did he climb up on the chair, a first, but he managed to carefully lift the large cup from the table to the chair without spilling an ounce. Putting things on the table or kitchen counter used to keep them safe, but those days are apparently gone. *sigh*
Not only is Jameson an agile mover, he's a wordsmith, too. At his 18 month checkup, one of the questions was whether he said 8 words. Um, yes:
no
hi
buh-bye
more
dada
mama
toast
cheese
doggy
george (as in curious)
uh-oh
nose
toes
toast
all gone
boat
ball
bowl
roll
block
apple
book
tickle
baby
strawberry
blankie
shovel
light
water
shoes
cookie
hot
a bite
bath
outside
egg
monkey
This month, Jameson likes to walk backwards and stomp with his shoes, and he spots doggies and balls everywhere He learned how to give hugs and kisses and knows where baby Blake lives.
He is obsessed with eating strawberries and toast.
He learned how to whisper and how to blow on his food.
A couple weeks ago, we were out to lunch with my friend Penny, and he reached across the table, grabbed my napkin and proceeded to blow his nose. Like, for real. He's doing it right now, too. Silly kid.
He loves blankets. When he sees one (or a towel, or something else resembling a blanket or towel, he says, "awww, bwonkie," and lays down on it on his tummy and shimmies around for a second to get a really comfy snuggle going. He stays that way for about three seconds and then he is on to the next thing.
He also insists on performing routine light switch checks, a la NBC's Community, whenever he sees a switch.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Breathe: everything is fine.
Tonight, after looking at IKEA's website, only to see once again that the crib we want for Jameson's big boy room (yes, I realize that "big boy" rooms aren't supposed to have cribs) is still not only out of stock, but no longer available for purchase online, I started to panic at the possibility that the crib had been discontinued.
If we can't get this crib, then the crib won't match the dresser.
My design plans will be thwarted.
Jameson will be deprived of a well-thought-out furniture plan and his room will look like the result of a dumpster dive.
Heavy stuff, you guys.
I did a little search and started to think that my fears were well-founded.
So I did what any money-saving Utahn would: I went to check the KSL classifieds. Hopefully someone will be selling one and I can just buy that one, and bonus, not have to put the dang thing together with those tiny little allen wrenches.
But when I get to KSL.com, I'm stopped by a huge photo of the cutest two-year-old boy who is battling something much bigger than mis-matched nursery furniture; he has kidney cancer.
I thought of my little boy, running around outside, digging in the dirt, going down slides, chasing dogs, eating popsicles and getting sticky and sweaty and having the time of his life, and at once I was so happy, and so sad.
My heart broke for this little boy, and for his parents. As much as I try not to do this, sometimes when I look at my life and all the good things in it, instead of feeling grateful, I feel scared at how much there is to lose. When I think of my child being in pain or danger, I just ache inside.
So I will take temper tantrums. I will take picky eating. I will take red popsicle stains. I will take Curious George every day until the end of time. I will even endure mis-matched bedroom furniture and I will not worry what people think of me for it. Because whether Jameson's bed is IKEA brown/black or just plain old espresso finish, I'll enjoy the same slobbery kisses, the same giggles, the same snuggles, the same excitement from learning a new word, and the same love, love, love from my sweet little boy.
And I'll just pray that the fun isn't cut short, and that I don't forget how much fun I'm having.
If we can't get this crib, then the crib won't match the dresser.
My design plans will be thwarted.
Jameson will be deprived of a well-thought-out furniture plan and his room will look like the result of a dumpster dive.
Heavy stuff, you guys.
I did a little search and started to think that my fears were well-founded.
So I did what any money-saving Utahn would: I went to check the KSL classifieds. Hopefully someone will be selling one and I can just buy that one, and bonus, not have to put the dang thing together with those tiny little allen wrenches.
But when I get to KSL.com, I'm stopped by a huge photo of the cutest two-year-old boy who is battling something much bigger than mis-matched nursery furniture; he has kidney cancer.
I thought of my little boy, running around outside, digging in the dirt, going down slides, chasing dogs, eating popsicles and getting sticky and sweaty and having the time of his life, and at once I was so happy, and so sad.
My heart broke for this little boy, and for his parents. As much as I try not to do this, sometimes when I look at my life and all the good things in it, instead of feeling grateful, I feel scared at how much there is to lose. When I think of my child being in pain or danger, I just ache inside.
So I will take temper tantrums. I will take picky eating. I will take red popsicle stains. I will take Curious George every day until the end of time. I will even endure mis-matched bedroom furniture and I will not worry what people think of me for it. Because whether Jameson's bed is IKEA brown/black or just plain old espresso finish, I'll enjoy the same slobbery kisses, the same giggles, the same snuggles, the same excitement from learning a new word, and the same love, love, love from my sweet little boy.
And I'll just pray that the fun isn't cut short, and that I don't forget how much fun I'm having.
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