months vs. years... he's almost two

Our baby boy turned 21 months last Friday.

In three short months, he will be two years old.

The transition from counting months to counting years is a big one.

I see now how you think the months fly by...

Then the years begin adding up,

and before you know it, those are flying by as well.

{Jack & Logan-21 months}

I blinked, and the sweet babies that made me a mother marched their way

directly toward their fifth birthday.  Five.

Because of them, thanks to them, I know to cherish this sweet toddler time with their little brother.

I haven't wasted a single day.
I have not taken for granted a single nap where I rocked him to sleep.

I have videoed, photographed, blogged and journaled every moment of it.

Like the way, in the bath tub, that he likes to FLOP! onto his belly and "swim" (read: splash mommy) and then sit up, only to FLOP! onto his back and talk out loud, enjoying the way the water muffles his own voice in his ears.

Or the way he will look around covertly and then climb onto the train table,
 even though he knows it's a no-no.

 Or the way he will try to escape if the front door is open (even if he only has socks on his piggies) so he can go say hello to Angel, her tail wagging in the snow under the rail.

The way he can count to twelve, and spell his name: "W-Y-A-T-T" with the "A-T-T" jumbling into one syllable at the end.

How loved he is by his big brothers, asking when he wakes up, "Fan off?  Downstairs. Bruzzah's?"  And so we turn off the fan, march downstairs and have snack with big brothers.

(His cheeks are shiny from Aquafor, one of the tricks I use for keeping his skin moisturized when we go outside, particularly when he is drooling a lot.)

The way he wraps the ribbons of his taggies around his fingers, muttering to me, through his binky, that the ribbon he has chosen is a "good one."

 We are thinking of saying goodbye to the binky soon.  

It's me, not Wyatt, who will struggle. It is me who, weeks after it's gone, will long for it when he's screaming and I am on the phone.  It's me who will look at his sweet face sleeping, and wish that binky, that sign of baby, was back in his mouth.  It's me who will have to throw them away, saying goodbye to that phase.

I'm getting there. I am.

Meanwhile, I find myself  dreaming of a full nights' sleep. The kid is still up at least once a night.  During the day, especially in the morning when I wake up exhausted, I find myself promising that I am going to be firm with him in the night. Laying him down, telling him he's fine and needs to sleep.

But then the middle of the night comes, and his cry is so sad, and his "Pick up" plea so pitiful, that I give in, and rock him in the rocker once again, singing Row Row Your Boat or whatever song he requests.

Josh is better at the night time stuff than me.  Thank goodness. 

We both hold out hope that once he gets used to sleeping without his binky, he won't wake up trying to find it anymore.

Looking back at the twins at this age, though, I am  just grateful he stays in his crib. We had to transition the boys to big boy beds at 22 months because they were climbing out of their cribs!

---

{Kori Hiser Photography}

This time two years ago, I was enjoying the beginning of spring in Washington.

I'd been home with the twins for a month as a SAHM, and Josh was planning to attend the Alaska Job Fair in Seattle.  I was seven months pregnant and we had chosen Wyatt's name.  

To be honest, I am very happy to look back on that time in my life and to no longer be living it.

Things now are much happier.

Much simpler.

Much less stressful.

We sing songs, we dance, we watch Baby Einstein videos (a favorite for Wyatt).  We snuggle on the couch in the mornings, Wyatt smushing his chubby cheeks into mine saying, "Hi, mumma!" over and over until I say, "Hi, bubba" in return.   

 We listen to the sounds around us, Wyatt saying, "Hear it. Snow machine," or "Hear it. Airplane."  We read lots of books (Grumpy Bird, Go Dog Go, & Hooray For You!), tolerate his screaming and the irony of him then telling us what we do is "too loud", and watch Super Why every morning after Josh leaves for work.

He watches it, shouting out random letter names he knows, and walks around the rest of the day saying, "Super duper computer!" and "Saved the day!" 

 When Josh wakes up in the morning, we can hear the door open and Wyatt flies up from where we're snuggling and says, "Hear it! Daddy!"  And on Saturdays when Josh is sleeping in, he says, "Daddy upstairs. Nigh-night."  He loves his daddy so much. Every time Josh gets home, whether for lunch each day or after work, Wyatt greets him as if it's been a yearlong absence.  "Hi daddy! Hi daddy! Hi daddy!"  It's so sweet.

There is one thing that he can't say clearly, and unfortunately, it's perhaps the most important thing a {nearly} two year old could say. 

"What is it?"

Instead he says, "Sai yaz it?" It sometimes sounds like he's saying "Isaiah."  If I ask him what something is and he doesn't know, he will repeat, "Sai yaz it?" to me over and over until I tell him the proper name.  He has gotten really particular about knowing the name of foods he eats. Last night before every bite of rice he would ask, "Sai yaz it?" and I would say, "rice" and he would repeat it. 

He sings Twinkle Twinkle Little Star along with this "personal computer" of his.  He loves that thing. When it sings, the puppy's nose lights up and this is how I found Wyatt listening the other day.  It cracked me up.  

Overall, I am just really impressed with our little man.

I love having a singleton, I love experiencing another little boy, who is so different from his big brothers, and I love how confident, secure and outgoing he is.  When we had our potluck last weekend, he strutted around making flirty eyes and showing off his mad counting skills.  

He makes me so proud and so happy.