Ode to Ezzie.

He's getting so big.

Today he turned 21 months old. In three short months, he'll be TWO. It's funny how it feels like he just got here, yet at the same time, I can't remember us before him. In only 21 short months, he's hunkered down here and put his little feet up on my heart. He's carved out a place, a comfy little corner of the world to call his own. He's developed a brilliant spark deep down in his green eyes and he lights up with our praise. There's no one like him.



I've often thought how I couldn't wait until Ezra was a bit older so we could actually speak to eachother and he could express himself through language and tell me all about who he is and what he thinks and feels and who he wants to be... I had no idea that words were unnecessary for this... that Ezra would be able to communicate himself so fully to me before a single adjective or noun. He's so expressive and he wears his heart on his sleeve. He can be coy. He thinks he's hilarious. (rightly so.) He walks with a jaunt that screams "man on a mission". He carries intensity and purpose.



When I say that I can't remember life before Ezra, that's not completely true. I can remember... It was much easier. Less complicated. More relaxed. But it was also less colorful. Less appreciated. Less generous. I'm slowly learning to appreciate the colorful NOW more than the carefree THEN. Color is better than free-time.



The days are far from perfect and sometimes that jaunt of his carries him right past my line of sanity and straight into the land of Woe-Is-Me, where the fuse grows short and the days grow freakishly long.

Sometimes that 'brilliant spark' deep in his eyes gets a mischievous glint to it and threatens to melt me into a puddle of messy mom-goo.

And yet always, (ALWAYS! ALWAYS!) that giggle works its magic and disarms my skeptic heart.

Thank you, sweet boy.

Kids Say the Darndest Things....

I'm learning that one of my biggest pet peeves is when parents teach their itty bitty children to quote the latest Snoop Dogg lyrics or to repeat the latest borderline phrases whenever anyone is within earshot because they think it's sooooooo adorable when their sweet precious babies are saying inappropriate things ISN"T IT SO CUUUTE??

No. It isn't.



Maybe it's just me, but I don't like hearing little kids tell me to "Step Off" when I'm trying to help Ezra down the slide.

And then there was the time I was walking through Target and I overheard a little girl (no older than 4) trying to get her mommy's attention. "Mommy!" (no response). "Mommy!!" (no response). "Mooooooommmmmyyyyyyyy!!!!" (no response). Needless to say, this little girl was becoming frustrated and desperate to get her mother to look at her. So, she stopped calling to her mom and paused and looked around. There were a few other people (including yours truly) who were milling about around her and her mother in the kiddos shoe department, and she looked desperately from one stranger to the next and then loudly blurted out:

"Dwap it wike it's hawt! Dwap it wike its hawt!" while bouncing up and down.

Some of the other people nearby smirked and giggled and the little girl beamed proudly with a huge grin on her face. The little girl's mom heard the giggles and smiled and bent down to her daughter-- finally giving her the attention she was looking for. "You goof ball!", she said.

Yuck. Icky. Gross.

Just because these kids don't understand what they're saying doesn't somehow make it okay. I personally think that these kids are already bombarded with enough questionable images (BRATZ, ANYONE?!?!) and content (CSI KITS FOR KIDS?!?!) waaaaaay before they should be.


"There are hungry children in this world! Let's buy a mini Cadillac Escalade!"
Stepping off the soapbox now.

What ever happened to the days of Snorks and Smurfs and Strawberry Shortcake? *sigh*

When it Rains, It Pours...

It seems like whenever Ezra isn't feeling well or something is bugging him, it causes this chain reaction and all these things start getting all out-of-whack and, before I know it, I've got a child with more issues and little ailments going on than I can count on all ten fingers. He is usually so healthy, but when he catches something, it's like everything goes at once. (Kindof like that old car I used to have... If so much as a headlight bulb went out one day, it was pretty much guaranteed I would have TOTAL transmission failure within 24 hours.) I guess it's nice because we get all the yuck out of the way in one go, but YIKES it sure is draining.

Today Ezra has:

A runny nose.
A nasty cough.
An excema outbreak on the sides of his mouth. (AGAIN.)
Gas pain that woke him three times last night.
Random face scratches. (Maybe these are from him attempting to wipe his nose and those 4 INCH LONG FINGERNAILS getting in the way. Let's just say lately he runs squealing when I get out the nail clippers...)
Nasty diaper rash.
Possible Two Year Molars coming in?
And a left ear that is TWICE the size of his right one on account of him being allergic to mosquito bites. (Okay, this one is more than a little comical.)



Ummm... I've got my hands full. I've got ointments for his mouth and his rash, tylenol for his teeth, hot steam baths for his cold, a humidifier on full blast in his room, and lots of tissues handy for the goo-fest.

He's quite the grumpy housemate right now... throwing tantrums left and right and inexplicably refusing to wear pants.

Is it bedtime yet?

The Greatest Gift I Ever Got...

Chris made me an anniversary video and sent it to me because we couldn't be together this year. He's in Kansas City. I've watched this way too many times to admit without embarassment, and my eyes are puffy and red because everytime I watch it, I bawl like a baby.

I. love. my. husband.

Three Years.

Happy Anniversary, Honey. I love you. Hurry home!

The Closest Thing To Heaven-on-Earth.

While my parents were in town, we took Ezra for a free trial class at Gymboree.

At first, Ezra made sure he was in the farthest opposite corner from where all the fun and kids and games were happening. It was as if he and the other children were polarized opposites and some powerful magnetic force was keeping them apart-- no human effort was enough to drag him towards the group of obedient children- sitting and clapping and following directions like a little cluster of Mini-Saints.



At this point, I was worried and convinced Ezra would never learn how to mesh well with other kids and I would have to spend the rest of his childhood taking him to "play" in places like corporate office buildings and empty fields... places where we would be certain not to run into another child and be forced to actually SHARE SOMETHING. Ezra can't even bring himself to share oxygen with other kids half of the time. (Moooom!! Moooom! They are breathing MY air!! Whhhiiinnne yell scream kick...)




So, I was trying to acclimate myself to the idea of being a gymboree-less mom, when Ms. Emily pulled something out of the cupboard that changed our lives forever.

Bubbles.




These were no ordinary bubbles. These bubbles drifted and filled the entire room and never seemed to pop. Ezra ran squealing over to the group of kids and started twirling and dancing and laughing in the middle of them all- catching bubbles in his hands. A few bubbles floated down and caught on his gi-normous eyelashes like snowflakes. They were everywhere.



And he was hooked.

From that moment on, Ezra was the most obedient, most Saint-like child of the bunch. What's that Ms. Emily? Pick up a corner of the parachute? OKAY!! Shake it like a polaroid picture? OKAY!! Clap my hands? SURE! Jump and twist like Gymbo the clown? NO PROBLEM!

It was so much fun to watch him interact with kids and actually have a good time doing it. I was so excited and thrilled.

The group he was in that day was a group of kids that were a bit older than him. (Up to 28 months). I took him again this morning, but this time he went to the group that was one step lower- making him the oldest in the class. He seemed to do better at the games and songs in the older group, so now I'm in a dilemma. Do I put him in the younger group so he can feel confident in all the activities? Confident in himself? Or do I put him in the older group where it might be a little more challenging? I'm torn.



Anywho, it's official. I'm a gymboree mom! Thanks MoMar and DooDad for the awesome gift.

Night Owl. Hoo. Hoo.

from the looks of this picture, you'd think my knuckles would drag on the floor when I walked.

Ezra goes to bed every night at 8:00 PM.

Sharp.

This isn't because I am some structure-crazed scheduling fanatic, but because at exactly 7:59 PM every day, all of my energy instantly runs out and I am immediately too drained to make even one more airplane noise or GASP with awe over one more game of "let's hide Thomas behind a pillow and then pull him back out 6 seconds later with much GASPing and awe!" weeeee!

I am at home with my son all day everyday, and I am so grateful and appreciative of the fact that I am able to do this at all. It's such a blessing to our family. But after 12 straight hours of enthusiastic clapping and cheering for my son while repeating the SAME WORDS over and over and over again ("Juice-juice? Can you say Juice-juice? Airplane!! Thomas! Ball? Throw the ball! YAY! Good boy! Now, catch! Where's your nose? Eyes? Ears? Mouth? Goooood booooy! Is that a doggie? Did you hear a doggie? Bye-bye? You wanna go bye bye? But where's your shoes? Can you say shoes? What's a snake say? GASP! Eat your food! Eat it. Eat it. Open up. Eat it. Eat it. Goood Booooy! No, no don't spit out your food...don't spit it out!! eat it. eat it. eat it. please? [times infinity] ) one gets a little, um, shall we say unbalanced?

So, around 7:00pm, (on good nights) I start watching the minutes slowly unfold on the microwave clock in the kitchen- anxious for the moment I can lay Ezra in his crib and close the door and GO HOG WILD. You know, do crazy things like bathe and watch Will & Grace re-runs and catch up on my W's. (My www.'s.) (Get it? Meaning the internet?.... oh, dear lord- let's just forget i ever said that.) I read my book and I munch on cheese puffs and dunk Oreos and I talk to my husband, or I write about my husband to all you fine folks. Yeah, watch out, world! You ain't seen partyin' till you've seen me in my Mickey Mouse Pajamas, eatin' crushed ice and checkin' my MySpace... woot woot!

But here's the trouble: all this farting around makes my average bedtime about 1:00 AM. I just get in this mode of enjoying MY time after Ezra goes down and I lose all desire for sleep. So, when Ezra wakes up at 7:00 the next morning, I am TIRED somepin' fierce. I drag my feet around all morning...and afternoon...and evening until it's 7:00 and I'm craning my neck to see the microwave clock again. And, without fail, every time I put Ezra to bed I get this burst of energy and I can't sleep. I'm all out of whack.

Now, add to all of this a frickin TIME CHANGE and you've got yourself one big, giant mess. I'm a mess. He's a mess. We're all a mess mess. It's enough to make me move to Arizona where the time stays the same and a nap/sleep schedule can live in peace.

Good thing my parents are here to help. Although, coming from Nevada, they are still adjusting from a two hours time difference from our Central Standard time PLUS that one hour we lost Saturday, MINUS the one they also then lost Pacific Standard Time and ... uh... hmm.... aww, forget it.

I'm gonna go get me some oreos and come up with a million different reasons for not crawling in bed right now. Like Slingo. WARNING: Don't click that link unless you have aspirations of becoming a cheese-puff-eating, Mickey-Mouse-Pajama-Wearin' insomniac like me.

ezra's sleepy stare

PS. This post was a Spell Check NIGHTMARE.

*yawn*

The Grinch Who Stole Buzz Lightyear's Place of Utmost Honor and Praise.

My parents are coming into town tomorrow! Yippie! I'm very excited for them to see our new house and our huge baby-toddler-child. (the one who has suddenly and unexpectedly removed Buzz Lightyear from the 'Throne Of Obsessive Interest' and replaced him with none other than 'The Grinch Who Stole Christmas'- officially ending the AROUND-THE-CLOCK Toy Story marathon THANK YOU JESUS.) The Grinch will, from now on, always be my hero. He has single-handedly rescued me from the incessant drone of Tim Allen's voice.



There are times when I miss my family so much that everything else that I'm doing in life seems a little fuzzy- slightly out of focus. I would love to be able to eat meals with them, laugh at Ezra's antics with them, know that they are only a few minutes away if I need them... Maybe it's just the upcoming holiday buzz in the air, but my family is on my mind constantly lately. So, I am really looking forward to my time with them.

Plus, Chris is going out of town for a few days again to help record an album in Kansas City with our friend Joel, so the timing couldn't be better. It seems like everytime Chris has been gone, I've had someone around to help me. (This is probably because God has heard my ceaseless mutterings of "help me help me help me i need help help me help me..." and so on.) I'm hoping to spend some good quality time just hanging out and playing with Ezra because this time with him is so precious for MoMar and DooDad who only get to see him a few times a year.

Here's some pictures of the hike that Chris and our friend Craig took Ezra on while I was out of town. Um, CUTE.

Sploosh...

Did you hear that sound?

That was the sound of my heart melting right out of my chest.

The Question of Two.

It's funny how many times I was asked when Chris and I are planning on having another baby while I was in California. (How many times, you ask? 1,263,465,309 times.) And it makes sense... They haven't seen me in awhile, and Ezra is now huge-normous and practically old enough to rent out his own apartment and attend night school while holding down a job to make ends meet. (all this before the age of two! wow!) Why not get started on a second one, right?

Here's the thing: I haven't even really thought about having a number two yet. Not seriously, at least. The first time I got asked that question while I was in CA, I was speechless for a few moments before I could answer. It's like I'd forgotten that having more kids was even an option and the question struck me as so foreign that I felt like I suddenly needed a translator.

A couple weeks ago, though, I started having these intense dreams about giving birth to a baby girl and then handing her over to this other lady in my dream who was trying to kill all of the artists in the world (including me and my husband.) The second I handed this evil lady my newborn child, she immediately broke down and started weeping and stopped trying to kill all the artists. She just sat there and rocked my child and soothed her with lullabies and kisses. I awoke from these dreams feeling really calm and peaceful, like there was something amazing in our future, But also feeling like it wasn't quite time just yet.

I'm not quite ready emotionally (or practically) to throw another munchkin in the mix right now, and Chris isn't either. But even so, the fact that I was feeling excited and confident that there even would be a number two in the future was a huge step for me. Up until very recently, the thought of having another baby was completely overwhelming and unimaginable to me. I was more like, "ONE IS ENOUGH, THANK YOU" and "PEOPLE HAVE TWO OF THESE THINGS? DEAR LORD WHY AND HOW??"



Even now I still have those days where thinking about starting all over again with another little baby seems completely crazy. I mean, I've made it this far with Ezra, and it sometimes feels like a mountain I don't want to turn around and scale again, you know? I'm in this mode of taking it day-by-day while holding on to the hope that this is just a season and soon he'll be tying his own shoes and sleeping over at friend's houses and going to Preschool. More independent. I don't want this precious time to completely pass me by, of course. But, to be honest, sometimes I wish I could fast forward a little and get to the "remember when Ezra would curl up into a ball on the floor and scream whenever another kid came anywhere near him?" phase of life. Where the challenges of today become the funny memories we share with friends and family tomorrow.

Before, it was mostly "just let me get to that place, God, and then everything will be OK. Let me get to the other side of this. Just let me get there, let me get there, let me get there..."

I know that when the time is right, Chris and I will know it. I personally would like to get Ezra out of diapers before Number Two comes along. That would be nice. Although, judging by the loathsome "Nooooooo!" wail Ezra emits whenever I mention the word "potty", this could potentially be SIX YEARS FROM NOW.



And I must insert the necessary disclaimer here: If Chris and I were to find out tomorrow that we were pregnant, we'd be thrilled.

SHELL SHOCKED, but thrilled.

(PS- you know those 'name lists' that I had put away after we'd finally named Ezra? Somehow they ended up spread out all over the coffee table last night. I swear I don't know how it happened. And then I must have tripped or something because before I knew what was going on, I had spent a good chunk of time reading through every name on those lists until I suddenly came to and realized WHAT THE HECK I WAS DOING.)

eegad.

**PLEASE NOTE: this post may have been nothing but a shameless excuse for posting pictures of teeny weeny little Ezzie Bug for your viewing pleasure. Apologies.**