There's a Special Place For People Like Me

I took the boys yesterday to meet Daddy for lunch. We went to the playground behind his office. It is this massive complex with soccer fields, baseball fields, two playgrounds, walking trails, and a picnic area. It must cover about 20 acres. Because we arrived before Daddy (go figure), I drove all around to see everything. There were maybe three other cars there. All were occupied by people sitting in the driver's seats, eating their lunches. There were so few people there that when I got back to the first playground, I decided to park in the handicapped space right next to the entrance to the playground. I figured I would be there a while by myself with the boys, and I would probably have to go back to the car for something, and since the only regular spots were a good distance away, and I wouldn't leave Reeves on the playground if I went that far, and no one was there, I would be OK to park there. Even though we were so obviously alone, I still had a little twinge of guilt, but I was able to convince myself that I was justified in my decision, given the remoteness and solitude of the playground and the fact that I was manageing two children by myself.
No sooner had we settled in to heavy playground play than a big blue van pulled into the parking lot. At first I was a nervous due to the aforementioned remoteness and solitude, but it was quickly apparent that this was a van full of disabled people. Relief...no wait! They had been brought to the park to eat lunch at the nearby picnic area. I felt terrible! Of all days to have taken a handicapped spot! Then I saw that there was still a spot even closer to where they were going, so my guilt diminished a bit. They probably wouldn't have chosen the spot I had taken anyway. I had caused no undue stress on them or required any extra effort. Then...the second van pulled in. This one had to park on the other side of my car. Granted, it was only an extra ten feet or so, but I was crushed. What are the odds?
I have always been appalled by people who pull out a handicapped tag and hang it on their mirror in order to take the spots at the stores and then don't even have the care to at least limp to the door. I really think that is so inconsiderate and rude. Yet here I was, assuming that because I was the only person there and likely to remain so, that the handicap spots would not be used. I'm still pretty shocked that the only other vehicles that came to the park were two handicapped vans, but, I'll never take a spot agan.

Zat You, Santy Claus?

Just one of the thousands of outtakes, but I like to imagine the boys saw old Saint Nick himself standing behind me a time or two. (It was actually Aunt Julie with a big ole sucker!) Getting that perfect Christmas card picture is truly an exercise in patient parenting and bribery... and thoughts of seriously getting Photoshop and "making" a picture of the two of them.

Reeves at 30 Months

Ree-Ree, I can't believe you are already 2 and a half years old. By the way, "Ree-Ree" has come directly from you; it was never a nickname we gave you. You refer to yourself as Ree-Ree all the time. When I say, "Reeves, you're a monkey", you say, "No. I Ree-Ree!" It is too cute. I have been meaning to write this post for some time (obviously). I don't think you have gotten a "letter" since Bennett was born, and I wanted to be sure to make note of this special age in your life.

You are a wonderful big brother to Bennett. You call him Bubba, but I'm just chalking this up to your speech delay, and reassuring myself that in time, this will pass. Bennett is already enough of a bruiser. I don't think we need to go ahead and prejudice people by calling him Bubba. Your father and I generally tend to refer to things with whatever misnomer you have given them, but we are standing firm on this one. You'll just have to come up with something else to call him. But, you are so sweet with him. You have already gotten pretty protective of him and don't always like it when we let people you don't know hold him. Of course, thanks to your recently discovered deathly fear of dogs, you were more than happy to sacrifice your brother to Lolly's miniature daschund, Henry. The dog is about as big as my foot, but there you were, up on your toy box saying, "Puppy eat Ree-Ree!", while Henry did laps around and over Bennett.

I have no idea where this fear of dogs has come from. You used to adore them and always loved to pet them. Now, you won't even be in the same room or yard with one. While I think it is good to have a healthy fear of dogs, what you are sporting is a crippling, paralyzing phobia. There is a happy medium, and I know you will find it, but I must say, it is a real pain, waiting for you to work it out. For our part, we are not keeping you from dogs and are encouraging you to pet them when we are around friends' dogs. It seems to be working in spurts. While at D's house overnight, your fear of Gracie, the dog who is so old and sweet, she is little more than a 3-D area rug, did diminish after a few hours of hard work. So maybe there's hope. I guess this means no more marathon viewings of Kujo.

I can't, at this point in you life, write a letter without mentioning your talking. I will admit, I have been more than a little worried about you. Despite the reassurance of friends and family, I have been concerned that you may have been suffering from a speech delay that would involve more therapy than your father and I alone could give you. We asked Dr. G about it at your 2 year appointment this summer. She said that, while behind others your age, she was not worried about it. She did say that, if by Christmas, we were still concerned, to call her, and we would reevaluate it. Of course, there have been days when I have convinceed myself that it was a big problem, and you were not progressing like you should. I would think about calling a speech therapist, but honestly, I was afraid of what we might find. I remember reading somewhere that if you go looking for a problem, you're certain to find one. This was how I felt about your talking. You were slow, but I knew you would start to get better. Then it was like a shell cracked, and you started saying intelligible words. Then you started piecing phrases together, then sentences. Suddenly, where once you were saying, "Bose's!" over and over, you were then saying, "Bose's house!" You have now graduated to full blown sentences. "Go Bose's house!" You ask all the time about D and Jodie and of course, D's big boat, which sounds more like "beer boat", but I have managed to ascertain that you also use "beer" when referring to dinosaurs, yellow diggers, cakes, and boobs, so I'm pretty sure you mean big. You have learned that high tide is when the water is in the marsh, and low tide is when you can see the mud. You also know that Daddy wears bow ties. You still say plenty of gobbledygook, but you're beginning to make more sense now. You are constantly pointing out things when we're in the car, and you love to sing songs. Every once in a while, I find myself longing for you to be quiet, but then I immediately stop myself because the only way you're going to learn to put all these sounds together is to keep doing what you're doing. I'm so proud of how far your talk has come these past 6 months. Although, if possible, I think I may praise you just a little too much because now, whenever you say a correct word, you beat me to the "Yay, Ree-Ree!" yourself.

I would be too vain to think that your speech progressions are due solely to the fact that we have been working on it so hard. There is, of course, the fact that you have started "school" this year. You go MWF, and you love it. You have made so many new friends and done so many fun things. You adore your teachers, although their names are still a little to much for you to say. I hope that you'll be able to by the end of the year. You don't always want get in the car to go to school, but by the time we are pulling in, you point to the little sign and say, "Ree-Ree school." It makes me so happy to see you enjoy this. While I do love the quiet time Bennett and I have while you are at school, the highlight of each of those days is when you come running across the playground to me, usually showing me whichever digger you're playing with. You tell all your friends goodbye, then we run off to the car, and you babble to me all about your day.

Reeves, there are so many other things to tell you, so many amazing things you do that I wish I would document so that I can share them with you when you grow up. Thank goodness for this blog because although I don't get everything down that I wish I would, this certainly helps. I want you to know that you are a sweet, wonderful little boy. You make your father and me very happy. There are days that, when you go running up to him when he gets home from work, I have seen tears come to his eyes. He tells me all the time how good it makes him feel when he scoops you up to your cries of, "Daddy! Daddy!" We love you so much, Boo. God couldn't have blessed us anymore than when He gave us you and Bennett to raise. You are growing up too fast, but we love watching every day and every minute of it.

Bennett at Four Months

Bennett Boy, Julie and Troy gave you just about the best 4 month old present ever. Your little cousin, Caulder, was born today, on your 4 month birthday. And, as if that weren't enough for you, you got a new little Buggy Buddy too. Amy and Jody brought Tradd into this world today as well. What a happy day. I hope you appreciate all the work on my part that went in to ensuring that these two little ones came on your 4 month birthday. I really had the hardest job. I'm sure people will think that it is actually the birthing mothers who have it roughest, but, as Gams says, "It's harder to think and remember that something needs to be done than to actually do it." (Or something along those lines. Although, she was usually referring to taking out the trash on Sunday nights and not the miracle of giving birth, but I think you'll agree the principle is the same.)

I must say, you showed off quite a bit today. You were a perfect angel as I dragged you from hospital to hospital. You did nothing but sit quietly and smile the whole time. You have made a lifelong friend in Darren with your flirtatious little smiles and coos. You won his heart immediately, and he must have won yours as well, since you saw fit to mark his shirt as your territory. Thank heavens he already has a couple of children himself, or he might not have taken it so kindly.

I can't believe how big you look next to these new babies. It seems like just yesterday (BTW, you'll be seeing that phrase a lot in this blog or any mommy blog, I imagine) that Jenny came by the hospital to see you. She had Cullen, who was only 2 months old at the time, in his carrier. He looked huge compared to you with all of 22 hours under your belt. Now, here you are, the elder statesman. How did it happen?

You have the most infectious smile and are quite generous with it. It used to be that Reeves was the only one who could really get you to smile, but not anymore. You smile for anyone. I have a ridiculous little ditty I say to you all the time, and I think it has only failed once to coax that dimple. "Benny, Benny Boy. The Benny Boy." I don't know where it came from (the tune, not the words), and I feel a little bad saying it all the time (seriously, ALL THE TIME) because Daddy doesn't really want you to be called Benny, but I can't help it. It makes you smile, and if you only smiled when I stood on my head, then I'd stand on my head all the time too. So I guess it's up to you. Once you start hating it, I'll stop saying (singing) it.

You're a tough little boy. Between your brother and your own fingernails, it's a wonder we haven't been to the ER yet. I think God knew what he was doing when he made it so that the younger you are, the faster you heal.

You're now officially in your crib, which means, by default, Reeves is officially in his big boy bed. I mention this for two reasons. One, you are a great sleeper. Once we gave you room to move, you started sleeping like a champ. You don't roll over yet, but you completely spin yourself around everytime you go to sleep. I would love to video it one night. I often wonder how you do it. The second reason is that, in addition to your length of sleep, you are also a pretty hard sleeper. I only know this because there have been more than a few nights where Reeves has let loose, fighting his bedtime, right outside your door. Knock on wood, it hasn't awakened you. I hope it stays that way.

Grandmama and I are convinced you are teething. You are constantly drooling, and you have already started putting any and everything in your mouth to chew on it. I think this is a bit early, but really, nothing would surprise me with you. Reeves didn't get his first teeth till he was six and a half months old. Of course, you blew past 10 pounds way faster than he did, so why not beat him to the punch with your teeth. I'm really fine with this except for the fact that your still nursing, and I would like to continue nursing as long as possible. I hope the teeth don't cut short these free meals.

You continue to adore your brother. And I'm beginning to think he's pretty fond of you too. A couple of weeks ago, I took him to a birthday party while you stayed home with Daddy. As soon as we turned out of the driveway, Reeves pointed to where you normally sit and looked at me and said, "Bubba?" wondering where you were. As much as he enjoys his one on one time with me, he misses you when you're not there. I am so looking forward to watching how y'all's relationship progresses.

Bennett Boy, you're an angel. You're such a good baby that even random people comment on it, not just family and friends, who are supposed to. And, of course, there's the dimple, and I have no doubt that you'll be using that throughout your life. I just pray I can withstand its powers. As your parents, it's our job not to give in to your every fancy, so you just remember that when you go cleaning out cabinets in a couple of years and try to flash us that dimple! We love you more than you'll ever know!

Christmas Colors This Year - White and Baby Blue

Is it still inappropriate to wear seersucker after Labor Day when it's 80 degrees in December? I hope not because that is what my child has sported for the last two days. So far, the only positive thing I can find in this unseasonably warm weather is that many of Reeves' summertime clothes I thought Bennett would not be able to wear are getting a lot of playing time. And I mean it, that's the ONLY positive thing about this.

Is it making it hard for anyone else to really get into the holiday spirit when your A/C is drowning out the sound of the Christmas carols coming from your stereo? I love this weather for spring or fall, but this is getting ridiculous!

So Much To Post, But In The Meantime...

What is happening to our world? As Doro and I were driving home this afternoon, down a jam-packed, stand-still, traffic-laden Meeting Street, we got to experience something we were both glad our children weren't there to see. We were tailgating Aileen who was blazing a trail before us, marveling at how slowly things were moving. We had had a lovely morning with the girls - a decorating class at Pottery Barn and a delicious meal at Mellow Mushroom. We were in high spirits, chatting away, and, although we noticed the traffic, we weren't bothered by it because we had each other for company and were screaming-child-free. As a joke, I honked at Aileen, just to see what she'd do. Haha. No sooner had my hand released the pressure on the horn than a man in a car heading the other direction on Meeting (ergo, we obviously weren't honking at him) leaned across his wife, who was driving (probably because he was still lit from the night before), and shouted, "What the F---!?!" Excuse me!? I politely let him know that this was my friend ahead of us and was about to leave it at that, but then I thought of my children. Doro and I had just been having a discussion about how horribly inappropriate some things are on television, particularly at the hours when children could quite possibly be watching. We had also just seen a sign hanging from a rearview mirror that said, "I 'heart' my penis." How classy. I kinda hope the kids don't start reading till they're 16. So, needless to say, the "what is this world coming to?" thoughts were already alive and well in our heads. Luckily, traffic was moving slowly enough that I was able to lean my head out the window and say to the jerk, "Good thing I don't have children in this car!" I know it is very unkind and unchristian of me, but I really hope that jerk thinks about what he did and how potentially harmful what he said could have been and has a horrible rest of the day. Parenting is hard enough. We don't need jacklegs like him complicating things even more. Oh, and by the way, their plates were SC. How unsouthern they are! Obviously com'hyeas!