Year One - Year End Review

Well lookie there, you dimpled little munchkin.  You did it.  You survived an entire year with this house full of crazies.

10 Things You're Good At:

1. Eating.  Pretty much anything, but specifically yogurt, bananas, Cheerios, tomatoes, blueberries, cheese, spaghetti, pears, peas, and avocados.
2. Drooling
3. Making people smile.  You're quite the charming little rascal. 
4. Saying 'Dadadadadadadadadadada'
5. Crawling
6. Cruising.  
7. Playing with Natalie.  You are still so fascinated by her (and frankly, so am I) and can think of nothing better than playing with her.
8. Dancing.  You appear to have inherited Daddy's wicked dance skillz.
9. Drinking from a straw.  Not to compare you to your sister, but you're way better at drinking from a straw than she was at this age.
10. Laughing.  Your laugh is infectious and could quite possibly be the solution to the whole lack-of-world-peace problem.

10 Things You're NOT Good At:

1. Sleeping in.  (But trust me: when you're 13 and want to sleep in 'til 10am on Saturday morning, I will so be waking you up at 5:30am.  I'm not above playing dirty.)
2. Eating quietly.  You and your sister are both so ridiculously noisy when you eat.  I've finally gotten Natalie to tone the noise down, so I'm not expecting you to do it any time soon.
3. Putting your laundry away.  You have opposable thumbs, you're reasonably strong, I see know reason why you can't pitch in.
4. Standing without assistance.  I know, I know - you have a gigantic head and it throws off your center of balance ...
5. Being patient.  I know this is not a skill that most one-year-olds possess, but I'm not the mother of most one-year-olds.  I'm the mother of you.  And as your mother, you simply have to learn to be patient.  I'm old and slow.  And I blame my old-ness and slow-ness on you and your sister, so the least you could do is be patient with my defects that you two caused.
6. Growing teeth.  Two?  After 12 months of life?  Really?  That's all you got?
7. Eating apples.  I think this is directly related to #6.  Granted, this does not stop you from shoving in handfuls of apple pieces in your mouth.  So what we end up with is a mouthful of slobbery, partially-chewed apple pieces.  Yuck.
8. Saying 'Momma'.  You say 'Dada' all the time.  But no 'Momma'.  No 'loveliest lady in the world'.  No 'Mother Dearest'.  No 'maMA' (said it a cool British accent).  None of those.  Nada.  Zip.  Superpunk.
9. Varying from your routine.  This has its good points, but it's also difficult.  I'm a creature of habit, so I'm sure it's my doing that made you and Natalie both creatures of habit.  
10. Remembering my grocery list for me.  Sometimes I forget things at the grocery store.  And when I look to you for help in remembering, you just laugh at me.  And drool.  And dance.  

10 Things You Love:

1. Frozen food.  Perhaps if you'd grow some more teeth, I wouldn't need to feed you food that numbs your gums ...
2. Natalie.  Everything she does, everything she says, everywhere she goes is fascinating to you.  You follow her around like a groupie.  
3. Tackling us.  If someone is lying on the ground, you take it as your personal mission to body slam that person.  
4. Drooling.  If it weren't for your pudgy belly and chubby thighs, I'd be worried you didn't know how to swallow, with how much spit flows from your mouth on a constant basis.
5. Puzzles.  You obviously don't put puzzles together, but you do like picking up each piece, examining it, tasting it, and then putting it back (incorrectly, much to Natalie's delight - because she gets to fix it for you)
6. People.  You smile at anyone and everyone.  With Natalie, I don't think I'll ever have to worry about her willingly going off with a stranger.  She's so wary of people and always sticks close by me.  With you though?  I think I'm going to have to put a leash on you.
7. Avocados.  I think you'd be fine with a milk-and-avocado diet for the rest of your life.
8. Going with me to pick up Natalie from preschool.  Some of your favorite things are wrapped up into one trip: seeing Natalie; being hugged by Natalie; seeing lots of other little kids; being tickled by those little kids (they love tickling your feet!); being outside (Natalie likes to play outside for a few minutes before we load up and head home)
9. Greeting Daddy when he comes home.  Natalie beats you to him, of course, but you're close on her heels, squealing and giggling.  I feel very confident that I can speak for Daddy and say this is one of his most favorite things ever.
10. Hugging toys.  I don't remember if Natalie did it as much as you do, but if we put something soft in your hands, you immediately bring it to your face, lean your cheek on it, and rock from side to side.  PRECIOUS.

10 Things You Don't Love:

1. Baths.  While it's not a biggie, it's certainly a bummer to have you pitch a fit in a room with such excellent acoustics.  Ouch.
2. Lunch meat.  I think it's a texture thing.  
3. Broccoli.  

I guess that's what happens with good-natured kids ... I can't come up with any more than three things that you don't like.

My sweet bear, this has been quite a big year for you.  You got born-ed, kid, and that's a huge accomplishment (and since you came in record time, not being born in the back of Mommy's van is also an accomplishment).  You've gone from someone who loves baths to someone who, in keeping with the Smithkid tradition, hates baths.  (Though in the grand scheme of things, hating baths is really a non-issue.  They only last five minutes, and as soon as we're done, you're happy again.)  You've gone from someone who is completely immobile to someone who crawls so fast that you often fall on your face because your hands and knees can't keep up with your desire for forward motion.  You've gone from someone who just drinks milk to someone who eats just about anything and everything.  You went from having zero teeth to having two teeth (okay, so that's not THAT impressive).  You went from waking every two or three hours to sleeping a solid 10+ hours (may I be so bold as to put in a formal request that that number get bumped up to 11?).  You went from someone who had no idea what it meant to be a pesky younger brother to someone who is quite adept at the peskiness (and between you and me, Natalie needed some peskiness in her life.  Keep it up.)  You went from a boring, little lump (is it obvious that the infant stage is NOT my favorite?) to an easy-going, endlessly-amused-by-yourself, dimpled-cheeked, square-jawed, jabbering little Bear who has completely stolen the hearts of the other members of Team Smith.

I don't know if it's a Mom-of-a-Boy thing, or if it's a Mom-of-a-Girl-and-Then-a-Mom-of-a-Boy thing, or if it's a Suze-is-Weird-And-It's-Just-a-My-Thing thing, but having a boy - having YOU - has forever changed me.  I so wish I could adequately put it into words, but I'm afraid I can't.  So you'll have to settle for my inadequate version.  Practically the second you were born, I immediately started praying for your future wife.  Praying for the girl who will someday hold your heart, whose heart you'll also hold.  I pray that I can be the kind of mom who will model the kind of Godly characteristics that you'll eventually look for in a spouse.  (I don't mean for that to be creepy - I don't want you to marry someone who's just like me, because 1) that's weird, and 2) I'm a special breed of crazy that only Daddy is equipped to wrangle.  I just mean I hope I can adequately demonstrate to you and Natalie the qualities of a Godly wife).  My job as a mom is something I take quite seriously.  And my desire to model Godly characteristics for you and Natalie is one of the top things on my Mom To-Do List.  My desire to demonstrate my never-ending need for God's love, forgiveness, and mercy is also on the list.  As is 'Take Lots of Naps'.

Congratulations, my darling boy.  You made me the happiest, most fulfilled Mommy on the planet.  Just when I thought my heart was filled to the brim with love for your sister, you go and bust down all my heart-barriers and show me there is plenty of room and an endless supply of love in my heart for a drooly little heart-melter.  I love you, my sweet boy.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

Here's Natalie singing Happy Birthday to you the day after you were born.  Melts my little heart ever single time.

Month 12 - Recap

I was so busy writing your Yearly Recap that I almost forgot to talk about what you did this month.  Silly.

Your personality continues to shine and I love seeing what you'll do for a laugh.  (I'm well aware that this part of your personality will very likely get you in trouble at school.  But I'm also well aware that those stinkin' cute dimples of yours will very likely get you out of trouble at school, too).   You like to play Peekaboo with anything you can get your hands on - your bib, a towel, a sock, a block, a baseball, you name it.  And while you'll need something along the size of a beach towel or a dinner plate to actually cover your gigantic noggin, Peekaboo amuses you to no end.

Your latest trick is to put your head on our shoulder and snuggle into us when we ask you for a kiss.  I LOVE it.  And while I have no clue why you do THAT as a kiss, keep it up.  Especially when you get to be a teenager.  When you go in for your first kiss (like, when you're 18 ... or 25 ...), by all means, snuggle her shoulder instead.  That's A-OK with me.

Natalie got pink eye earlier this month, and I was 100% sure you were going to get it.  A week went by and you were symptom-free.  The very next day, I got you up from your morning nap and your eyelid was glued shut by massive amounts of crud.  I immediately burst into tears because I so wanted you and Natalie to dress up for Halloween.  I spent that day wiping breastmilk on your eyes and trying to pry your eyes open so  I could put eye drops in them.  You never had any other symptoms other than an a cruddy eye.  The next day, your eye was clear.  I was doing the happy dance, giving mad props to the impressive healing power of my breastmilk.  The next day, your OTHER eye was glued shut.  I immediately stopped the aforementioned happy dance, and repeated the breastmilk-and-eye-drop routine.  The next day, that eye was clear.  The next day, both eyes were cruddy (though not glued shut).  The next day, they were clear.  So annoying.  And it was either the weirdest case of Pink Eye EVER, or you had some funky, clogged tear ducts.  I'm leaning toward the clogged tear ducts because you were never fussy (except when I tried to de-gunk your eyes), you never got a runny nose, you never acted like you didn't feel well.  It doesn't really matter either way - the point is your eyes have now been gunk-free for a few weeks now.  And that's a lovely thing.

Speaking of breastmilk (I can practically hear you saying "Moooooom!  Don't talk about THAT!"), you decided you were uninterested in nursing about three weeks ago.  One day, I realized I only nursed you twice, and both times I had to come FIND you to nurse.  You never indicated to me you wanted it.  Since I thought it was silly to nurse a kid who's obviously not interested, I stopped.  And instead of buying a can of formula to tide you over until your first birthday, I broke the Wait Till A Child Is One Year Old Before Introducing Cow's Milk rule and gave you milk.  And dude, for real, you acted like I had just given you a bajillion dollars (if babies actually cared about money, of course).  You got so excited and sucked down every last drop; when you were done, you gave me the biggest smile.  When I started Natalie on regular milk, I had to warm it up a bit for her in order for her to like it.  With you, I gave it to you cold (this is yet another example of the classic case of second children never getting any special treatment) and you couldn't have been happier.  I have to fight Daddy off your milk - I got you the crunchy-granola, tree-hugger whole milk (the non-homogenized kind in glass bottles where you have to shake it every time you want some because the cream is floating on top), and Daddy thinks it's delicious.  And as much as I don't like to admit it, it IS really yummy.  I'd have to go back to work to support our current milk habit if we decided to make the switch to the tree-hugger milk for all of us.  Or I could just make YOU get a job. I'm sure somebody's in the market for a adorable, drooly, non-walking Scruncher Bear, right??

I dressed you up as Buzz Lightyear for Halloween.  I'm sure there were hundreds of boys dressed up like Buzz Lightyear, but I'm willing to bet that you were the only one who was named Buzz Lightyear in utero (more specifically, Buzz Yightyear, thanks to your sister's funny pronunciation of Ls).  You will always be my sweet Baby-Buzz-turned-Charlie-Bear.  And I will always be the luckiest momma ever.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for November 9, 2012:

• Storm-stricken NY wakes up to gas rationing
• Gunman sentenced to life in Giffords case
• Iranian missiles hitting Afghan soil, official says
• Hurricane Sandy may have cost Obama 800,000 votes
• It's not the 2000 recount, but voting snafus and disputes still plague Florida
• 'Twilight' Fans Camping Out for Movie

October 2012 - Recap

My sweet girl,
This is the month of the pink-eyed monster.  You, my darling, sweet, incredibly smart little peach, are, to put it mildly, a disaster when you're sick.  You're a nonstop Whine Parade and act as if I could have possibly forgotten (in the past two minutes since you last told me) that you, in fact, DO feel awful.  Your poor eye was glued shut by three pounds of gunk.  And you were NOT pleased with me having to clean your eye every hour or so.  I even went so far as to wipe breastmilk on your eyes (because that stuff fixes EVERYthing).  You squealed and protested "But Mommy!  That stuff goes in Charlie's MOUTH!!!!"  I didn't even attempt putting your prescription eye drops in your eye (pinning down a sick three-year-old is NOT high on my To Do list) - instead, I opted for the "squeeze a drop or two on a napkin, then wipe the napkin across your eye" approach.  You watched approximately 683 hours of Strawberry Shortcake (awful show, in case you're wondering) and 173 hours of My Big, Big Friend (fairly cute - waaaaay better than Strawberry Shortcake).  I had to keep reminding you not to touch Charlie's face.  Or hands.  Or feet.  Or anything that he could put in his mouth (which is everything).

You've really gotten interested in helping me cook.  You particularly like to make your breakfast in the morning; you've been on a peanut-butter-sandwich-with-a-side-of-banana kick, so that makes it pretty easy.  I'm trying to teach you the fine art (ie: my way) of making sandwiches rather than Daddy's way (ie: the wrong way).  With my way, whatever you're spreading would reach the far corners of the bread.  With Daddy's way (in case you forgot, this would be the wrong way), whatever your spreading may or may not go to the far corners of the bread.  In fact, what you're spreading may not even be spread - it might just be plopped in the center of the bread that that's it.  You've gotten pretty good at spreading peanut butter, and I even let you wield a knife (with my hands safely covering yours) to cut your banana in half.  You also like to smell spices.  I love that you're interested in how things smell.  You really like cinnamon ("It smells like oatmeal!") and vanilla ("It smells like cake!").  I had some Montreal Chicken seasoning and you asked to smell it.  I unscrewed the cap and handed you the bottle.  I turned my back to you so I didn't see this take place, but
since I saw the aftermath, I know exactly what happened.  You stuck your nose right at the opening of the jar and sniffed really deeply.  Not only did you find out what Montreal Chicken seasons smells like, you also found out that Montreal Chicken seasoning burns the dickens out of your nose (particularly when you have about a teaspoonful crammed in your nostrils).  I tried so hard to be sympathetic and not laugh, but, well, I did.  I know it must have hurt, though.

One of your favorite things to do is to 'read' to us at bedtime.  Usually Daddy or I read your bedtime story, but recently, you've wanted to do it.  There are about 10 books you've memorized and you love reading to us.  You're quite the master storyteller, asking "Oooh!  I wonder what's going to happen next!!!" as you slowly turn to the next page.  I know it's just another way you dilly-dally your whole bedtime routine, but you're just so stinkin' funny when you do it, that it's hard to be aggravated.

More than once this month, you've looked at me while eating dinner and said "Thank you for cooking this food, Momma.  You're a really, really good cooker."  Let me tell you something, my doll: you saying that means the WORLD to me.  I work really hard trying to cook good, real food for you, Charlie, and Daddy.  I feel like part of my job as a stay-at-home mom is to work hard to cook most of our meals.  And making sure those meals are nutritious and (reasonably) tasty.  So even though I'm taking a compliment from someone whose track record of saying things that make sense isn't the best ("I don't know how to put on my shoes!", "What's a fork?", "I can't remember how to brush my teeth!"), I'm taking it gladly and running with it.

This is the 2nd year we've taken you to a pumpkin patch.  Last year, you were scared of the big Box O' Dried Corn Kernels.  This year, you dove right in.  Last year, you were scared of the horses.  This year, you were beyond stoked, and I'm pretty sure you're going to ask Daddy to buy you a pony for Christmas.  Last year, you were scared of the tire swing.  This year, you giggled and sang as you swung.  Last year, you were scared of the sand pile.  This year, you jumped right in (and ended up taking home several cups of sand in your britches).  Last year, I don't remember there being a zip line, but I'm pretty sure you would have freaked out if we had suggested it.  This year, you rode the zip line no fewer than 10 times.  And it only took you one time of riding with Daddy holding on to you as he ran beside you before you decided you could do  it by yourself.  And by yourself you DID.  You rocked it.  Daddy and I were so proud of you for how brave you were in trying all the new things.  What a difference a year makes.  But just like last year, though, you insisted on looking for a pumpkin "that wasn't so dirty, Mommy.  These are yucky."  Some things never change.

I don't particularly like Halloween.  I don't like creepy stuff, I don't like scary stuff, and I'm not a fan of going door-to-door asking for candy.  It's not the candy I mind - though I really limit what you can have; last year was the first time you ate Halloween candy.  (Daddy and I, on the other hand, have eaten your Halloween candy for four years.  Ha.), but I much prefer Truck-or-Treating over Trick-or-Treating.  The controlled environment of Trunk-or-Treating seems safer (and far less intrusive) to me than going door-to-door and asking for candy.  So despite all THAT, I do, however, like finding cute costumes for and Charlie to wear.  I've gotten really lucky and found an adorable costume for you each year.  A chicken when you were one, a 50s-inspired sock hop dress when you were two, and Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz when you were three.  This year, I found a pair of scrubs just your size.  They're fabulous and you look like a natural in them.  'Dr. Natalie' has a nice ring to it.  As does 'A Sweet Retirement Home For Mommy and Daddy Purchased By Our Super Successful Doctor Daughter'.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for November 1, 2012:

• Storm kills legions of NYU lab mice
• Long road for Sandy-battered areas despite progress
• Show must go on: Broadway plays coming back
• Report: 'Star Wars 7' won't be based on the books
• Dramatic debut: Babies born amid historic storm
• Elephant can speak Korean — out loud