Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Will and Barrett in May

Oh my two dudes! What a joy you are.

William, how can I sum you up in a brief paragraph? You are becoming more of a boy everyday and less of a toddler. For months I've been considering you as 3 years old even though your birthday still isn't for another week at least. Your independence is showing forth every day. But you still need me for so much. I think in some ways I've kept you back, I feed you your soup and I put your shoes on for you and I still pick out your clothes and dress you. You let me do all these things and so it's no bother. But I know the day is coming when I'll have to teach you to do all these things for yourself, & I better do it soon because it won't be long before I'm going to have three mouths to feed soup to.

You love trains. You love to run around the house and holler all aboard! at the top of your lungs. You love to build endless Duplo trains, you like to build them even more than you like to drive them around. Yet every time Barrett happens upon a train you haven't played with in a few hours and pulls it all apart, you run up to the train and say, "Hey who took this train apart? I was playing with it!"

You begin many sentences with the word but. A simple comment, an answer to a question, an observation. It's usually out of context and doesn't make sense. It does, however, make sense when I ask you to do something and you reply, "But I'm just playing with this." On a few occasions I have told you, "Do not tell me but!" That's confusing, of course, and I need to choose my words more carefully. You are a constant chatterbox. In the car on the way somewhere you are constantly asking questions, making observations. The other day your daddy pointed at a piece of construction equipment and said, "Look at the backhoe, Will!" You replied, "Daddy, that's not a backhoe. That's an excavator!" You were right. We had a good laugh at the irony of a two-year-old correcting a man who works in the construction business.

I love your chatter. You say so many cute and funny things it's impossible to remember them all. You like to pretend to talk to people and you like me to be their voice. This is the same thing you've done for months but the older you get the more you seem to remember "their answers" and hold them to it. I have to distinguish now that, "Sure we can talk to Daddy, but its just pretend!" You also love games. You love playing catch and you love playing jail. Periodically you'll say, "This is a funny game! Is this a funny game?" Everytime your daddy accidentally hits you in the face with the football, you have a good laugh. And you have a pretty good arm too. Last night you chucked the football at daddy and whacked him right in the eye. It actually hurt so much that he stopped the game of catch and played legos with you instead. He said, "Are you going to be a quarterback, buddy?" And you said, "Yeah! I'm gonna be a quarterback!"

Your naughtiness cracks me up sometimes. I walked into the playroom at the sound of your shrill cries and saw you, red faced and irate, yelling, "Barrett got the last strawberry and HE GOT IT!" You were so angry that Barrett had eaten the last strawberry out of the bowl. I just burst into laughter and slapped my hand over my mouth. You make me laugh so often. The other day I swatted you on the butt with my hand when you were being naughty to Barrett. It wasn't serious swat, more like a pay attention swat, but you looked at me with a reproachful gaze and said, "Mommy, you don't spank people."

And a couple nights ago, after a particularly tiring morning sickness day, I was so ready to be done and go lay in bed and sleep. But after I had put you to bed you kept needing me. First you needed to pee. Then you wanted a toy. Then you called me because you were hungry. That third time, I was downright irritated. I determined that it was the toy (Lightning McQueen) you were holding in your hand that was keeping you awake and distracted. I took it out of your hand and said, "We're going to put Lightning McQueen on the floor so that you can go to sleep." But my words were instantly drowned out by the sound of your sudden top-of-the-lungs sobs that Lightning had been snatched from your hand. Knowing that the last thing I wanted was for Barrett to wake up and need me too, I tried whispering in your ear that you needed to calm down and go to sleep and that I would give Lightning back to you if you would just calm down and go to sleep. But my whispers were drowned out as well because you did not want to be separated from your most recent best friend Lightning McQueen the Matchbox car. So in total frustration, I grabbed your hand, shoved Lightning McQueen back into it, and stormed out of the room for the night. I proceeded to go downstairs, snap at your Daddy who was trying to find out what was wrong, and storm off into the shower where I broke down into tears because the truth is, I had spent all day trying to love my family and in the last five minutes I had ruined it and made them hate me at bedtime. I cried and cried and then I got out of the shower and apologized to your Daddy. Then, wearily, I climbed the stairs, hoping you were still awake.

And of course you were. I sat down on the bed and I said, "William I'm sorry for getting angry with you. Will you please forgive me?"

You looked at me and took a moment before replying, "Mommy, you don't take toys away from people." Touche. I spend all day telling you that when it comes to your brother.

I said, "I wasn't trying to take Lightning away from you. I thought you might sleep better if he was on the floor."

You replied, "Well, you made me sad."

"I'm sorry I made you sad, buddy," I said. "Will you please forgive me?"

"I forgive you," you said. I kissed you, I told you that I loved you, and all was well. You were such a little adult and I was the penitent child. I had a good laugh with Brian after that. But the truth is, I seem to tell you that I'm sorry a lot. I'm sorry that I get frustrated with you. I'm sorry that I lose my patience. I'm sorry that I can't carry you up the stairs at the same time I carry Barrett. You guys are just both getting so big and I'm getting so tired and, well, you can walk and he can't. You do love to be held and cuddled and I don't feel like I do it enough. That said, there are so many things that I don't do enough of but God's only given me so many hours in the day and I do my best.

I hear you crying upstairs and it's time to go get you for the day. I guess this post has become only about you. I'll have to do Barrett tomorrow. :-) I love you my big boy.

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