A Letter to Indigo at Two Years Old

Dear Indigo,

My, how time flies when you're having fun. Or when you are sleep deprived. Either way, here we are. You are two years old. Twenty-four months. 730 days. And not a baby anymore. You are a little boy, in love with trucks and school buses and dinosaurs. You rock a pink fedora and love pushing the pink and white pony toy around Nonno and Nonna's house. You are confident and loving and your laugh is definitely one of the best in the world. "Bubble Guppies" is your favorite tv show, and you love to dance when they sing.

I can't even list your vocabulary any more -- you pick up new words on what seems like a daily basis. When I walk through the door after work you turn around in your booster seat and your face lights up and you shout, "Mommy's here!" and then you point to the seat next to you and say, "Sit, mommy!" And Lord help anyone else who tries to sit there, in "Mommy's chair." Everyone has assigned seating, chosen by you and Periwinkle. You both love your routines, the familiarity of dinner at Nonna's table, with daddy in his chair, and mommy in hers, and everyone else settled appropriately. Dinner with milk, and then a cookie. Sometimes two.

You still resist going to sleep some nights, but there are more stretches of "easy" evenings, where Daddy and I get to eat before 9pm. Glorious evenings.

You are opinionated, refusing to brush your teeth until I threaten to use your toothbrush myself. You want to carry your own bag into daycare. You proudly lead me to the classroom door every morning, helping silly mommy who just can't seem to remember where it is.

You shout excitedly when we drive past school buses, letting me know, "Mommy, bus! Look there, mommy! Bus!" And then we drive away, and you sweetly ask, "More bus, Mommy?" as if I can make them materialize out of thin air. Luckily, the town usually comes through with at least one more bus as we drive along. Phew.

You still have a bit of a temper, an abrupt shift from my snuggly, sweet boy into a frustrated mess of emotion, and your go-to action is to bite. Sometimes you think it's funny and bite even when you aren't mad. If you try to bite your sister, she gets such a superior tone to her voice as she tells you, "No bite, Inno! Not nice!" It's kind of adorable, but please stop trying to bite her. Remember, angry dinosaurs can stomp and shout, but they never hurt other people. One of these days that will sink in. We are trying to help you express your anger and frustration in other ways, and you KNOW "No bite!" but you still don't always follow that rule. You, like all of us, are a work in progress.

You have had many successes on the potty, but we aren't pushing that too hard. It's fantastic when you lead me to the bathroom and then actually GO though. School is working with you on potty training, too, which is great. One of these days you'll get there! I'm just so proud that you are trying. I'm not going to lie, I'm looking forward to you both being out of diapers. So is my wallet.

You've been at your new daycare for two months now, and you are doing amazing. We have been told so many times how polite you both are, saying "Please" and "Thank you" without being prompted. Such a little man! You play with trucks nicely with your new friends, help clean up, and enjoy all the arts and crafts you do there. Last week you made a scarecrow, which you proudly show me every morning. I picked up your school pictures today, and was blown away by how mature you look.

They say we're entering the "terrible twos" but I have to say, you are at my favorite stage thus far (of course, I've said that at every stage thus far...). You are fun and funny, and we can have actual conversations. You are just starting to use your imagination, which makes playing with you so new and exciting. You are helpful and thoughtful, asking "Okay, Mommy?" if I seem upset and giving hugs all the time. Thankfully, you are still my snuggle bear.

Basically, I love you, little man. Now and always. Happy Birthday!

Love,
Mama

A Letter to Indigo at Eight Months

Dear Indigo,

Today you are eight months old. It simply amazes me the changes that take place in you on a monthly, even weekly, basis. Sometimes I look at you and I see more little boy than little baby in you. And then I pick you up and you snuggle into me and I realize you'll always be my little baby. You are my snuggle bug. And you are growing fast.

I looked at your car seat manual, and I realized that within a few weeks, you'll have outgrown your infant car seat, by height, not weight. It's time for Daddy and I to start shopping around and figuring out how to get you in and out of daycare until you learn how to walk. I'm hoping I can find a stroller that can fit in my little car trunk, so that you can go in that while I carry your sister in the Ergo. We'll see how that goes. I love picking you up at daycare, seeing those smiles when you realize I'm there, hearing your excited noises as you wait for me to lift you up and hug you. So I'll find a way to make this work.

This month you became a master at rolling over. I'll glance away and when I look back you are halfway across the room, a little speed demon. We need to start babyproofing, pronto. We got rid of the coffee table, as it wasn't terribly sturdy, and now you have the whole living room to roll around on. We just pile all your little toys onto the big blue blanket that we like to pretend contains you two, and let you both at them. Sometimes I'm reminded of Scrooge McDuck rolling around in his money the way you sometimes just roll right over your toys, hard plastic blocks and soft rattles both.

When we lift you up you straighten your legs out, finally, so that you can stand for a little while with our support. For the longest time you either would keep your legs curled up or collapse immediately when we put your weight onto your legs. But you've been strengthening them in the bounceroo, which we have to adjust soon because you are just getting so darned tall! It's such a joy to watch you bouncing in that thing, because it's so evident that it brings you so much joy.

You're starting to fight back against your sister, not caving when she grabs for a toy you have. You sometimes even just roll away with it. You also like to pull her hair and ears. Try to be gentle.

When we put you on the changing table you often roll to your side, grabbing at whatever bib or burp cloth is on it. Soon we'll have to change you on the floor. Speaking of grabbing bibs, your favorite thing to chew on these days is anything cloth. Bibs, burp cloths, blankets, soft toys, Mama's shirt, you name it, you want to chew on it. I'm thinking it might have something to do with teething. All I know is it cracks me up when I see you grabbing at a bib and two burp cloths at the same time and trying to gnaw on them all. You're a hoarder!

This weekend is your baptism, and I'm hoping you don't freak out. It's not at the best time of day (naptime) and you probably won't enjoy the water too much. But so many people are coming to tell you they love you and it should be a fun day. I'm afraid to try your outfit on you because you have gotten so tall lately. We'll just hope for the best.

In July we have lots of fun stuff going on, and I'm so excited for it all. July 4th, BBQs, and a week at the beach should all be such great new experiences for you and your sister. I can't wait!

  

I love you, little man,

Mama

Sleep Crying and Rolling Over

Sleep training is progressing with some more bumps in the road. Apparently I slept through a few nightwakes last night, and Blue kindly took care of the little ones. Whoops. I feel bad. Solidarity in exhaustion, no?

A fun new development since we stopped swaddling the babies last week is that Indigo cries in his sleep. And it's not just a wah-wah cry. No, it sounds like someone is in there trying to kill him. He sounds SO upset, SO pained, and worst of all, SO scared. It breaks my heart to listen to it. An online friend I've dubbed the Sleep Guru told me not to wake Indigo during these times as then it will take forever for him to fall back asleep. Or he could freak out, like people who are sleepwalking tend to do when harshly woken up.

So I tried to just let him cry through it last night. I knew he wasn't hungry or wet, or at least that those things weren't what was bringing the crying on. I had no idea what WAS bringing the crying on, but it wasn't something I could fix. That's perhaps the most frustrating part of this, actually.

But after a minute or two of hearing my baby screaming like that, I had to pick him up. Horizontal didn't work, so up on my shoulder he went, still completely asleep. Phew. He calmed down, so I put him back in the crib. And the screaming started up again. Back up on my shoulder he went, and he came into our room for a few minutes. I reclined a bit to get him a bit more horizontal and he stayed calm. Finally his breathing slowed from that ragged, crying breathing we all get after a good crying jag. I put him back to bed and he stayed asleep and calm. Phew again!

Until 3 am, when it started up again. This time it took less time to get him calm and I never had to leave the nursery. Still broke my heart listening to that cry.

I've been told that babies do not dream until 18 months, so I know he's not having horrific nightmares. I've been told it might be a growth spurt, which might make sense given his recent jump from 6oz to 8oz bottles. And another person told me their child started doing it when they stopped swaddling him, which also could be a reason for Indigo, although by all other accounts he is doing well without it.

I'm also told these crying fits last about ten minutes, that as they get older they will wake more easily and I should definitely let him cry it out at that point, and that frequency diminishes over time. So we'll see what tonight brings...

The day before her first roll-over. So close!

In better news, Periwinkle rolled over for the first time yesterday, from front to back! She looked so surprised. I was ridiculously excited, mainly because we were both there to witness it and she saved it for us, not daycare (unless she did it there and they didn't tell us, which is fine. I'm okay living in ignorance). So, first roll-over on St. Patty's Day!

Almost a year to the day that we found out I was pregnant, which is kind of crazy. Where did the past year go? The Monday after St. Patty's Day last year I was so giddy at work I don't think I did a damned thing. I'm not terribly productive today either, but that's because this project isn't exactly inspiring...

Also, wish me luck at the allergist tonight. I'm hoping they can alleviate the sniffles, and thus the pain my nose is in, so that I don't want to chop it off anymore.