I find it harder and harder to believe that my sweet little Luke is closer to a two-year old than he is a one-year old. I don't know how these days go by so.flipping.quickly.
He is 21 months today. Twenty-one months!!!!!! He is seriously more and more fun every day. He has brought us so much joy and happiness, and I honestly just don't know that I ever would have believed I could be so madly in love with him. There has never, ever been any doubt that I would love any and all babies entrusted to me as a mother, but the healing that Luke has brought into our lives and in my heart is nothing short of miraculous.
Truly, I was given a new heart, and this little boy has every single inch of it covered with my devotion.
He is a funny boy. He loves to laugh, and somewhat sadistically, he laughs at us when we 'cry,' or rather, when we pretend to. We joke about how he shouldn't get so much glee out of us bumping our knee on the table and screaming, "Ouuuuuuuccccccchhhhh!" but he does...and it's hard not to laugh at his laughing at us.
More, he does NOT like it when I cry. He gets a very, very, very uncomfortable look on his face, and it's because he does not really ever see me cry and it makes him feel unsettled. This makes my heart so happy—not that he is unsettled, but that me crying is such a foreign thing to him that he doesn't know what to make of it.
And let's face it—there is never any reason but to be completely joy-filled when I am with him.
He is talking, talking, talking. Non-stop. All the time. Babble, words...makes no difference. He just talks or sings all.day.long. I could not be happier. I joke that when he starts making sense, I am in big trouble! He repeats the last word of EVERY thing he hears and everyone notes it—"Wow, he repeats everything, doesn't he?"
Yes. Yes he does! Still not putting too many two-word phrases together, but I'm not really worried. His vocabulary is strong enough and he talks so much (and so quickly, again, like his mama) that he could do just fine communicating with individual words for the rest of his life.
Like his daddy, ba dum dum.
He is thinning out...still has his chubby little chipmunk cheeks, but his little body is getting leaner and leaner. We are calling him "Droopy Drawers" because his little bum won't keep pants up for anything. Adjustable waist is our new best friend!
Eating? So.not.fun. He just doesn't want to eat more than his 6 or 7 staples. Nothing. No way, no how, nothing doing. I've tried EVERYTHING, believe me. We've joked that he's a lazy eater, his teachers have commented that he's definitely pickier than most and may have an issue with chewing, and frankly, the list of things he will eat is getting too small for my comfort level.
Add that in with some sensory issues I feel he may be having and I've decided to have him evaluated by our local Occupational/Speech Language Therapists.
I put this out here fully expecting to hear, read or know that people are thinking, "She's nuts. Every kid is picky. It's a battle of the wills. Leave him alone. He'll eat when he's hungry. She's being neurotic."
I hope all of the above is what his lack of eating and issues with clothing and textures turns out to be. I would love nothing more than to be told, by professionals, that I am just worrying over nothing.
But I'll let them do that. And if they have to tell me something different, and that there are things we need to work on, well, then, that's what we will do.
It's my responsibility as his parent to do so. Whether I'm being neurotic or not, I'm tired of worrying about being thought of that way and then regretting not doing something I wish I had.
Call me crazy.
When the professionals do so, I'll listen.
He loves doggies, trucks, his daddy and all things outside. One of his favorite things is to get in Daddy's truck and jam in the driver's seat to some crazy tunes. Currently, it's "The Lint Song," and let me tell you, that is one weird song on a kids' CD. But he loves it. He loves, loves, loves music and to sing and bounce to a beat. Yesterday, in a parking lot, a truck drove by blasting some rap song. He was in the cart as we were headed to our car, and he just started bouncing up and down to the beat. The people got out and were laughing and I said, "What can I say? The boy loves a good beat!"
All day long, yesterday, he kept saying, "Beat? Beat? Beat?" and bouncing. He cracks me up.
Still a big reader. He climbs in his chair, opens his book (Still loving Llama Llama!), makes sure it is oriented the correct way, and starts "reading." I know I am biased, but as a reading teacher, I'm impressed with his ability to mimic our reading at just the right places when he is 'reading' the same book. I am so glad he loves books like his mama.
I adore him. Just adore him. He's starting to realize that he doesn't have to actually listen to me or what I say, and when he tries to exert his will, he's pretty easily redirected. Oh, we have our little tantrums here and there, but they are few and far between. And really, when they happen, I find it so easy to just get down on his level, give him a hug, tell him I know he's upset and that we can work on making it better, and just working through it. I want him to be parented with love and mercy and grace and he makes it very easy to do so.
Except when he's whining, ha ha! A new thing he picked up from school. He just has this ghastly moan...not a crier, which has always been nice, but this moan! Oh.my.word! Working on curbing that! He does love school, though, and though I miss him, I am glad we did it. He learns things and is always happy and his teachers are both really wonderful. I feel fully that he is in great hands and since he loves it, I love it too.
Happy 21 months, sweet boy of mine. You are the most amazing little thing in the world and I am so, so, so grateful you call me Mama.