Thirty Months!

Dear AJ,
Oh, sweet boy. Today you are 30 months old and you've arrived going head-on, full blast as if you were breaking the record for the speed of light. If asked, and I'm sure the other two-thirds of your trio would agree, I am a horrible Mama at this stage of your life. I know. I don't love you. It's horrible that I don't let you have a bowl of M & M's for breakfast and worse yet, I have the audacity of picking you up and sitting you in time-out while you are killing, I mean playing, with the puppy by dragging him by the collar because you want him to "run with you". The horrors!

You don't understand why I don't appear to be whimsically in love with you when you turn on the kitchen faucet and spin it around so that the water is pouring on the counters as you casually walk away to go play with your dump truck. I know I would also lose a popularity contest with you when in a split second during those moments when for instance, I reach for a diaper to change you and you've managed to squirt out 2/3 of a bottle of lotion on the bed while my back is turned. I scowl at you. My grimacing look half-filled with amazement at your Superhero abilities and the other half at the mess I have to clean up.

I remember one day after walking into one of your mishaps (I think it was the day you spilled the gallon of vegetable oil on the kitchen floor) and saying as tears welled up in my eyes, "Dude! What have you done?" (mind you, I never say "dude"). You looked at me and said, "Dude, nothing!" as the oil dripped from your little fingers and your shirt was stuck to your body. I didn't know whether to laugh and cover you in kisses or whack your bottom.

You have erupted into the terrible two's with so much tenacity that many times I'm not sure who's the smarter one. I swear I could sign you up as a minnie MacGiver, since you can slip in and out of places unseen, even without a piece of chewing gum and a paper clip! Hindsight is 20/20, and I realize now that I neglected to ask your birth mom about this, but I just know that deep in there somewhere you must have some Houdini in your gene pool.

I'm not sure why, but I find that my maturity somehow eludes me when it comes to parenting you. While you nap, I often spend my mornings thinking about how I will outwit you. At times, I think I am a genius when I come up with a plan. I quietly (so you don't see it coming) high-five myself and dance around as if I've just been nominated for a Pulitzer prize, especially when I've devised a way to keep you out of the pantry or the art & crafts drawers filled with crayons, playdough and sidewalk chalk. Aaahh...yes, sidewalk chalk. Sidewalk chalk on the walls, furniture and TV, has developed into your weapon of choice lately. I digress. Only to find out a little later, that you've moved on to bigger and better things such as the CD rack or the junk drawer that you now easily reach. It's always something new and unexpected. You keep me on my toes.

At times, I think I could be doing something big to help improve the world we live in. Something to avoid disaster on earth. I think about the scientists out there researching if and when asteroids will be crashing into our planet. Then I stop and compare myself to them, and I realize that I am helping mankind. I am averting catastrophic destruction from occurring. How you may ask? By keeping you in check.

Although, I must admit that sometimes you have me questioning my sanity. When I walk into a room and find one of your creative endeavors I ask "Who did this, AJ?" It amazes me how without skipping a beat you say, "Kai" with such certainty that I had to stop and think if maybe, just maybe, Kai may have done it in the few minutes he had alone before school. I should know better. Finally, after intense interrogation, you break and say, "AJ do it. I sorry, Mama. I never do it ageen. I pomise." Then you stroke my face. Oh, how I wish you weren't so stinkin' cute!

But you know what? Even if you don't give me a break, even if you laugh in the face of danger, even if you think that you have Mama wrapped around your finger with those amazing eyes and bashful smile, I wouldn't change a thing. I love and melt when you raise your arms for me to pick you up and you snuggle your adorable, little face into my neck. I love feeling your warm breath against my skin and when you whisper "scatch me back, pleeze." I love your sweet, wet kisses. I love how the pouty lip forms when you speak to Anna Grace and she doesn't answer you. You rapidly walk over to me with that little spring in your step, arms folded, lips protruding, furrowed brows and loudly exclaim, "Anna Grace no love me, Mama!" You love to see me have her come over to you to hug you. Your face radiates love when she smiles and says, "I love you, A.J.", as she puts her arms around you. I love how you always give big bear hugs and never fail to say, "Awwww" as you squeeze the lucky recipient.

You are so compassionate. You can't stand hearing someone cough without running to them and tapping them on the chest while asking, "Are you OK? Are you OK?". You're the first one to run towards someone who is hurt and the first to say, "It's ok. No hurt." or "AJ kiss it better."

I can't believe that you are 30 months old. Two and a half! Where has time gone? I'm enjoying every second of being your Mama, but I so wish I could slow you down. Even if for just a bit. You are growing way to fast for me. Although you are and always will be my baby. I love you so much. Thank you. Thank you for always making me strive to be a better Mom. I may not be a perfect Mama, but you know what? I'm so glad I'm YOUR Mama and I'm never gonna stop loving you. There hasn't been a day that has gone by since I first held you 30 months ago that you haven't made me smile big and made my heart fill with pride to say you're my son.