Thursday, April 18, 2013

Weaned

Callum feels big.














Bro smoothie 'stache.


















We're trying to take him seriously, but it's hard.

Classic blankie photobomb.





















(Little boys wearing bubblegum pink glitter toe nail polish is in right now, so I'm pretty sure pearls are, too.)

Pedicure not pictured, but believe me it's there.




















Proprioceptive and vestibular input junkie.





















Callum has big boy feelings, strong ones.

Sit-in protesting leaving the pool.




He's been obsessed with lightsabers for months now, and feels perfectly comfortable in the middle of a 4th grade battle.

Turns out weapons are allowed in the post office, if they know you.
















And while he's not super talkative about anything other than "FOOD!" he's got the sound effects down.

Callum is a runner, and he likes to just take off without letting us know, especially at Target.  He can find the fastest route to the toy department from any starting point.

Wandering the desert with half a pool noodle, following the force.
















While I think it is a nursing strike, as of tonight I declare you weaned.  Going cold turkey from three times a day to zero is hard on your old mother's body.

Twenty three months is a good run.





















I'm still going to call you my baby.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Thinking of You

Mom,

It was a perfect spring day here, exactly the kind you loved so much. Thinking of you, this morning I dressed Callum in one of the t-shirts we bought for G on our last trip to New England together, and wondered where the heck that little Red Sox baseball cap might be that we later decided was good luck since they went on to win the World Series that year. I smiled a lot, remembering that crappy little rental car and how you made me drive every time we left Aquidneck Island, our crazy adventures road tripping up and down the insanity that is I-95, and getting stuck on the Tappan Zee Bridge, nearly breaking out the Pampers because we had to pee so freakin' bad. Remember the joy of being naughty as we broke Poppy's number one rule (never drive into, or even in the vicinity of, Boston and NYC!) over and over?  Hard to believe it was nine years ago next month.

Last night I thought of you as Jason and I were talking vacations, remembering Boston two years ago, because omg why do I always get stuck driving in circles in Charlestown? Even then, with my best big city driving skills and crazy pregnancy hormones in your zippy car with GPS and a gazillion paper maps Jason would like to know how you can "keep making turns and get absolutely nowhere!"  Probably because we couldn't stop belly-laughing and crying, just like Ganna.  I'm not sure why driving in NE is so funny, but it really is, isn't it?  You'd probably say it's a yankee thing I got from her, but she gave it to you, too.  I really wish you could watch Jason's version.  It's a lot like his telling of our '97 trip, when he thought we'd spent the day driving around Rhode Island and Massachusetts and was flabbergasted to learn he'd been all the way up to Freeport, Maine and back.  Good times.

It's always something, and it's not just me, it's even the people you'd least expect.  During the playoffs, when Poppy's Pats had a chance of going to the Superbowl, I thought of you two slapping bets on top of the tv, trying so hard not to bust out laughing as you talked smack about each other's teams.  From the eyes of a little kid, adults pretending to behave badly over football with money was the funniest thing ever.  And when the Pats didn't make it this year but your beloved 49ers did, Jen reached out to let me know she remembers, too.  "Thinking of your mom today.  I feel like I should be singling, 'We love you Niners, oh yes we do! :) '"  Yes, your emotionless niece Jen!  I know!  Right?

And everyone you'd expect, too.  We all think of you, all the time.

It still feels like home away from home, and I'm so glad that there's so much more than bad things happening there to make me think of you.  Thank you.

Love,
Heidi

Monday, April 15, 2013

You Might Not Be a Redneck If...

Your ten year old son excitedly bursts out "Cool!" when they bring out a starting pistol at the track meet, and you realize it's the first real gun he's ever seen.