Two

I’m the mother of a two year old.

I dont’ know how it happend. I mean, Ok, I know that there are twenty-four hours in a day, seven days in a week, twelve months in a year, and that time just keeps ticking no matter how much we’d like to slow it down (or speed it up, like if you’re in the middle of an intensely terrible meeting.) But to wake up one morning and realize that your baby is not a baby anymore is a bizarre feeling.

That’s how it happened, too. One day I’m breastfeeding my newborn; then, I’m spoon feeding him green veggies; the next, I’m encouraging him to walk. Now, he’s spooning his own food and I’m encouraging him to stop running away from me and stand still for one second for crying out loud.

Last year on his first birthday, I felt joy and relief. I made it a whole year without dropping him and I remembred to feed him every single day and he was sleeping all night in his big boy bed and I could listen to his cries without an intense desire to stab my own eardrums so I wouldn’t have to bear the pain of his shrieks anymore. Yeah, year one was hard; It was the end of a race, the day after a big presentation; payday. We made it.

So then two rolls around, and this year I was much more nostalgic and wistful. The bleak early days of new motherhood seem much further behind me now and those memories have been replaced with the fun of a toddler. I’m not saying I want those days back, but they feel far enough in the past that I’m comfortable reliving them. As my baby turned two, I relished him — his personality, his sense of humor and his charm; his amazing hugs and quiet snuggles. I sat and had conversations with him about what kind of sounds animals make and asked him to make a choice between rice and mashed potatoes, and appreciated the fact he knew exactly what I was asking.

My son at two years old is smart. He has his favorite television shows (Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Little Einsteins) and knows the words to the theme songs. He knows what he likes to eat: rice, bread, peaches and pears, bacon and sweets. My son at two years old has a sweet tooth like you wouldn’t believe. Considering how much his Daddy and I love sweet treats, he comes by it naturally.

Speaking of traits, my son at two years old has distinct splashes from both of our gene pools. He has my eyes and his Daddy’s chin. He’s starting to get my husband’s hairline and his dimples. K and I are both moody when we’re tired or hungry and he has that, too. He has a defiant streak that seems more potent than the normal two-year-old temper, which is probably a little of both of us, to be honest. He also got our sense of humor — especially K’s — and loves to laugh and make us laugh. His favorite thing is to scream “BOO!” until somebody acts scared, then dissolves into giggles before he does it again. And again. (And again.) My son at two years old also loves to dance, a trait he definitely got from me (he get it from he mama!)

My son at two can say so many words and probably knows way more than he can say (even some he shouldn’t know [note to self: clean up language]) He can tell you about tons of animals and the noises they make, point out cars, trucks and construction vehicles, talk about various types of foods he will and will not eat, say thank you, please, COOOLL, and ALL RIGHT! He gives high fives, kisses, hugs and fist bops on command. He counted to four the other day. He’s pretty much a genius. Mensa, give us a call.

Year two has flown by for me. This isn’t even a cliche. I honestly don’t know where the time went. They say time flies when you’re having fun, and fun with my son at two years old is a way of life. He’s changed our lives in ways I never thought possible. I mean, i had no frame of reference, for sure, but the adorable, funny, caring little man that has developed from that helpless baby is more than I could have hoped to have in my life.

I’ve learned one thing from time passing so quickly, and that’s to enjoy it. I’ll let him eat an extra piece of chocolate or lick the spoon when I make a cake. I’ll let him stay up just a little longer. I’ll give him extra kisses. I’ll let him sit on my lap during dinner. I’ll hold him while he makes the automatic faucets turn on. I’ll read two books and then a third one when he looks at me with those big, brown eyes and says, “book?”

My son at two is the light of our world and I can’t wait to see what three has in store.

Now, a few pics from Luke’s second birthday: