It’s official. He’s two.

Two years ago, on April 14th, at about 11:45pm, I started freaking out.  It had become very obvious I was going to give birth on April 15th.  I’m pretty sure I demanded the labor be stopped at that point, suggesting we start again in 24 hours.  Pain will do funny things to your brain.  Who wants to see what I say when I get a tattoo?

But “apparently” pitocin can’t be stopped.  I think they didn’t want to try.  And then hearing the ex and my mom proclaim my son would be an accountant!  If I wasn’t in so much pain, I’m sure I would have found something to fling at them.  I probably would’ve missed with the IV and the belt and all.  But I would have had *some* satisfaction.

Yup, my littlest dude was born on April 15th, and now he’s two.  Though he’s been acting Two for months now.

Some random facts about Aidan:

1. It took well over a year for his angel kiss birth mark to fade away.  But you can still see it when he gets mad.  That gene came from me.

2. He’s a towhead.  While my brothers and I were all blonde as children, my mom was the last towhead in the family.

3. He now has to sleep with 5 boardbooks, a mama shirt or two, a teddy bear, and a baby quilt. I’m not sure how there’s room in the crib for him.

4. He’s starting to talk when he’s playing by himself.  babble-babble-babble? NO.  babble-babble-babble?  NO.

5. He has finally started to eat meat.  He’ll eat hot dogs and chicken cashew. 

6. He loves watching cartoons and video games.  I feel like a failed parent.

7. He has yet to sit in time out.  I’m pretty sure this means I’m a failed parent.

8. He likes to take the boys’ toys, smile at the boys, show them, and then run off.  He’s a brat.

9. He adores his brothers.  It’s their hands he wants to hold when crossing the street.

10. He has to help me put things in the grocery cart, unload the grocery bags, and unload the dishwasher.  I’m still trying to figure out how helpful this really is.

 

If you’re just dying to know how Aidan entered the world, here it is.  Happy Birthday, little man!  Hold on tight, this year is going to get rocky.

P.S. Yes, I did want to write and publish this yesterday, but I was in detention.  More on that in a post coming soon.

Pool Adventures

Stupid thing didn’t post and I swear I checked it!

I wish I had more pictures.  I wish Vista didn’t hold our picture program hostage.  I wish I had my laptop fixed, so I could show you.  Evan has a great impression of a hammerhead shark.  Swimming.  In water.

He holds one leg and uses his other leg and arm to swim underwater three yards.  It’s hilarious.  It’s amazing.

Evan started out the summer refusing to put his head into the water.  He believed he would be just fine hand crawling along the pool wall.  He wouldn’t hold his breath underwater.  He screamed if you tried to make him jump off the wall to you.  And I couldn’t get him into the city swim lessons.

As I’ve said before, I taught him to swim.  We went to my parents’ house every day, and I worked with him.

Evan and Papi also have an imitation of a great white, where my dad spins Evan under the water and then throws him out into the air.  Yup, my family loves swimming tricks.

Last week Evan followed Uncle M’s example and leaped from the diving board! 

My son jumped off the diving board into the deep end and swam to the side.  We just stood there, staring, until we remembered to clap and cheer.  My dad has forbidden the term “deep end” because he believes Evan doesn’t really understand how deep the pool. 

To emulate his uncle more, Evan takes a running start and does a “cannon ball.”  He has yet to understand or have the ability to grab his legs to make a ball, but he kneels.  All this while he shouts “cannon ball” from the top of his lungs.

Not to be out done, Sean too has his own cannon ball.  He climbs out of the pool at the steps.  He runs around the whole pool.  Then he shouts “cannon ball.”  He turns around and slowly climbs back into the pool, landing on the top step.

We’re winding down pool season here, or at least, we’re considering putting on the cover.  It’s in the mid to high 90s here, but the night is getting down to the high 60s, making for one chilly pool. 

Yesterday I had resigned myself to failing at teaching Sean ANY swim safety.  Ok, he does blow bubbles, but that’s it.  After an hour of convincing Evan to pick up the Lincoln Logs he spilled all over my parents’ family room, Evan ran out to finally join his brother and Papi in the pool.  I walked out to have my dad show me what he was working on with Sean.

Sean can now crawl along the wall.  Only left to right, but it’s still progress.  Next year he’ll be swimming.

The Apple and the Tree

You’re singing again, making up random songs as you go along.  Your lyrics are clear like the ones on the radio, but you rarely sing the ones you here.  You like making up your own.

I used to sing all the time, making up random songs as I went along.  I would swing for hours, singing my own songs.  Ask your grandparents.

You’re telling stories.  You like making up adventures.  You’ll sit and go on and on and on, explaining the characters and what they do.

I would tell stories at your age, and I still do.  I would sit at my desk and scribble, pretending it was script as I wrote along, once everyone was tired of listening to me.   

You like to talk.  Woe to the adult that catches your eye.  You ask questions and explain things.  You just like communicating.  Everyone knows everything you’re thinking, wondering, understanding.

I still talk a lot.  I was only a year older than you when I talked eight hours straight except for my nap, not repeating myself once.  I think of it as a gift.

You’re a different person every day.  You’re Super Turtle, Ti Lung, a ninja, a knight, a Tiki, a pirate.  Every day you’re trying on someone else’s skin.  Your imagination has no boundaries.

I was also trying to be someone else.  A princess, a knight, a doctor, a queen, a fairy, an angel, She-Ra.  Sometimes I still pretend I’m someone else, to work out stories in my head or my favorite an au pair when you and your brother act up.

Oh, right.  One day you’ll also pretend you aren’t related to me.  I’ll understand.  I’ll hug you in front of your friends, but I’ll understand.  You’re just an apple that fell too close to the tree.

The MOON!

Sean: (With great pride, points) Moon!

 

Me: (not sure how to proceed) Good try, Sean!  That’s actually the sun.

 

Sean: (insisting with pride) Moon!

 

Me: Close, Sean.  It’s the sun.

 

Sean: MOON!

 

Me: (sigh) Very close, Sean.  It looks just like the moon but brighter.  It’s a cartoon sun.  The moon comes out at night; the sun comes out during the day.  It’s day time, so that’s the sun.

 

Sean: (points, smiling with pride) MOON!

 

Me: (kissing his head) Good job, Sean.

 

There will be plenty of time to correct him later, right?

 

A penis conversation

 

Evan: Mommy, my penis is sad.

 

Me: (As I struggle to get Evan’s underwear on)  Why is it sad?  (Where is this going?  He couldn’t have heard about a happy penis, right?)

 

Evan: My penis is not happy.

 

Me: (Deep breath) What would make your penis happy?  (I will kill anyone who makes this into a sexual situation or joke.)

 

Evan: My penis needs a drink of water.

 

Me: That’s interesting.

 

Evan: I need to go pee in the potty, and then my penis will drink water.

 

Me: Um, ok.  Do you need to go pee?

 

Evan: No.

 

Me: Ok, well now that you have underwear on, which shirt do you want to wear the dinosaur one or “I look like Mom, but I act like Dad” one.

 

Evan: Like Dad.

 

And so another interesting penis conversation ends.  It’s true.  They only think about their dicks.

Another Conversation

As my husband and Evan lay down in Evan’s bed together to read a story, Evan climbed onto his father and laid down.

Evan: I’m a hot dog!  And you’re the bun!

My husband smiled and hugged Evan. 

Daddy: That’s right.  I’m the hot dog bun!