"All Myself"

"All myself" appears to be the phrase of the moment. A recent growth spurt seems to have perpetuated this even further. Now brushing his teeth is a battle because he can reach the toothpaste and brush; therefore it must be done, "all myself." He can also reach the soap and faucet and so washing hands must be done, "all myself." A trip to the potty equals a slam of the bathroom door and opening it before he is finished earns me a loud, "MOM!!! I do it all myself!" This is ,generally speaking, accompanied by a look and moan that I was certain I wouldn't be receiving until much closer to puberty. This morning's "all myself" moment came as he was dressing himself. The underwear and pants went on no problem but it would appear the shirt gave him some difficulty. Jesse was concerned that it was on inside out; my concern was that apparently my son is sporting a tube top. After several frustrating minutes as Drew realized that there was some sort of problem, resulting in his shirt down around his hips, he conceded that perhaps this one time he didn't have to do it on his own.

I wonder where this stubbornness and desire for independence comes from???

"When You're a Rock Star..."

We've pretty much always known that we have a little rocker on our hands. So, for his 2nd birthday, I decided it would be a good idea to get him a drum set, an electric guitar, and a microphone. They were a major hit but within a few short weeks, Drew had blown out the drums....sad day.

Knowing that Kait was moving to CA and taking her piano and keyboard with her, Mom and I decided that Drew would probably want a keyboard of his own for Christmas...it worked out, especially since we ended up moving to Montana...although I can't speak for my neighbor's opinion of the situation.

A couple of months ago, we decided to get him a snare drum to try out before we get him another drum set. You should hear the kid's rhythm. I should add that I'm currently teaching him quiet vs. loud so that there's some variety!

The boy loves his instruments so we've also added a harmonica and tambourine. You're probably wondering where the funny story is...trust me, its coming. In fact, two of them are. I'll start with the first.

Our local library has a Storybook Time every Wednesday. We started going to it the first week we were in town. The children's librarian (Robert) a sweet older man, with white hair and goatee, and an acoustic guitar plays some songs and sings to the kids and then reads a couple of stories. Although I don't know him very well, he seems quite the gentle soul. Imagine the shock of the library then last Wednesday as Robert prepared to begin and Drew jumped up and yelled out, "Come on Mr. Robewrt! You wrock de guitar and I'll wrock de dwrums!!!" He then started banging out a rhythm on a nearby table and yelling, "Wrock on!" Apparently, we need to work on appropriate situations for an impromptu rock concert.

Second story, Saturday night we went with some friends to hear a new band. The band opened up the floor towards the end and Drew charged up to the stage. He started off jumping around and dancing, while cranking out the air guitar. That was funny enough...it got better though. All of the sudden he stopped and listened for a second. Finding their performance unsatisfactory, he proceeded to critique them, pointing to each band member one at a time and then tapping his foot in a different manner. The thing is, he was right.

I guess some of you might find it strange if you walked into my room while I was putting on my make up. Drew and I have the same conversation multiple times a week. "Mommy, can I have some of that?" as he points to the eyeliner. "No babe, not now...but when you're a rock star you might need some. We'll talk about it then." To me, as I survey my living room filled with various musical instruments and the weekly request for an upgrade or different one altogether, it just seems common sense.

Beyond Blessed

I'm not a very patient person, especially when I know what I want. There is a particular facet of my life about which I have always known, without a doubt, exactly what I want. I want kids, lots of them. In fact, Jesse and I joke that our goal is to rebuild a couple of dilapidated sports teams with our offspring. So, when things don't go as I hoped or planned and it seems that its taking so long to add to our family, I have to make myself stop and think. I look at pictures like the one above and remember just how blessed I am. Some of you may beg to differ but I truly believe that I am the mother of the most beautiful and amazing little boy.

I remind myself that I get to spend most of my days like in the picture below, swinging at the park, taking long walks, digging in the dirt and reading Dr. Seuss. That's when I realize, if for some off the wall reason, I were to never have another child, I would still be beyond blessed. I have an amazing miracle, a "gift from God" as he would say. I have something that no one else in the world has, I have Drew.

Another round of Drew-isms

- The other day I was on the phone with my best friend. A glance at the clock told me it had been a while since Drew had made a trip to the potty. I told him it was time to go, to which he responded, "Mom, I can't wight now. My need to pway nakey soccer." I responded that he could play naked soccer after he went potty - thinking that he was just running his mouth to kill time. Apparently not. He came out of the bathroom stripping and proceeded to kick the ball and run all over the house stark naked. Ah, the advent of a new sport.

- This was posted on my fb wall but for those of you who may have missed it. Drew was headed out to run errands with Jesse the other day. I asked him if he needed his ball cap since he wears one almost constantly these days. "No Mom," he said, "I have a head."

- On the subject of errands, after dropping Jesse off at work Drew asked what we would be doing next (Now what we gonna dos?). I reminded him that it was nap time. "No, Mommy! I a big boy...I could run ewwands!"

- Sitting across from him on the couch Sunday, I saw that he had Bop-Bop (infamous blanket) cradled in one arm and his Bear in the other. He was holding Peter Pan and looked up at me, "I'm weading to my babies, Baby Bop and Baby Bear."

- Along that same strain, before every bite he took at lunch today, he attempted to cram some into Alvin, the chipmunks mouth. "I have to feed Baby Alvin," he said to me calmly.

- Yes, he's still obsessed with babies. So much so that last month when I wasn't feeling well and asked him not to jump on me, he crammed his hand down my shirt, started feeling around and yelling, "Its cause you have a baby in your tummy? Do you? Do you have my baby sister in there?!?!" He was not pleased with the answer. I may soon have a revolt on my hands.

- Lately, he's heard talk of houses while hanging around grown ups. Yesterday, as we took a stroll to the park, we passed a house that I really liked. Apparently, he liked it too. On our way back, he let go of my hand and headed up their driveway. I quickly grabbed him and got him back to the sidewalk where he said, "But Mommy, we sayed we liked that house. I was going to see it!

Hmm, time to wrap it up but as always, I'll give you one for the road.

- This morning he was playing with his big trucks in the living room. As I watched, he picked up his keyboard (a Christmas gift from my parents), turned it over and laid it at an angle so that it was propped up on one end. I asked what he was doing to which he responded that this was a hill. I reminded him that it was actually his piano and that wasn't a good game to play with it. He gave me a sympathetic look and said, "No, Mom...its weally a hill." Sometimes I'm certain that he thinks I'm mentally inept.

Camo Hats and Stick Weapons

Most days I'm beyond thrilled that I have a child that is so thoroughly all boy, no one can deny it. Last night when Drew got ready for bed and he was wearing his camo hat with his pajamas, I thought it was the cutest thing in the world. When he turns our entire apartment into a Tonka truck vs. Matchbox car demolition derby, I smile at the epic noise level and go about my business.

For those of you who knew me growing up, this probably doesn't come as too much of a shock. Aside from the prissy ballerina side, that is most definitely there, I spent much of my time running around with my brother's friends. Thus, I'm not exactly a stranger to the male fascination with bodily functions and beating each other up.

Its that last part that catches me off guard on a fairly regular basis. I feel like I'm constantly replaying the same few audio clips, "We don't hit!" "Its not nice to hit!" "Why did you hit him?!?" As I asked my mom yesterday, "Please tell me that at some point social functions won't end with us leaving because my child hit someone!?!?" She, of course, reassured me and gave the sage advice that I so often need.

Don't get me wrong, its not like Drew is some terroristic two year old that parents should steer their children away from. He's actually sweet and affectionate and runs to hug his friends when he sees them. (Of course, they often flinch as they see him coming...not that they don't want the hug, Drew just towers over most kids his age.) Eventually though, the boy nature just kicks in. Someone takes something that he thinks is his or invades his space and the territorial nature emerges. Sometimes, its as simple as deciding that an awesome sword fight is in order...and by sword I mean a giant tree branch that a child his age has no business being able to lift.

So then my dilemma arises. I've never really minded the pillow fights, wrestling matches, sword fights, football or hockey games going on all over my house and flying toys are something I've become accustomed to. Drew's always played rough with his daddy, his uncles, his Geeda and at times, even me. It seems though that at his age he can't really distinguish between wrestling with his Daddy or wrestling with his best friend. There may also be some confusion between a safe and relatively harmless foam sword and a gigantic tree branch.

So here is the question: How do I continue to let him be a boy but try and keep the rough play to a minimum...at least for now. I know at some point, most parents say, "Boys will be boys" and they aren't so concerned about rough play but let me be clear, those parents are (generally speaking) not the parents of cute little toddler boys. Seriously, I'm open to suggestions.