Holiday Cheer

We've officially hit the holiday rush. Thanksgiving week flew right by in Dallas, and we couldn't have had a better time catching up with old friends, laughing with family, and eating way way way too much delicious food. We hit a whole other level of ease with travel this year. We bounced around from house to house staying a couple nights here and a few nights there, and Charlie played his heart out every day with his sweet cousins. I think I saw him for about 10 minutes each day, maybe 14 minutes if you count the Mom-I-need-a-snacks. My siblings are my very favorite people and watching Charlie's love for them and their kids makes my heart explode. Charlie also got everyone dancing to Mr. Mistoffelees at one point or another, and it may be my favorite memory of the week. Well, it might actually be a toss-up between Mistoffelees, and Charlie's first race -the Turkey Trot. He ran his pants off, took a break, and ran his pants off some more. The kid's a natural. As we said good-bye to Dallas on Saturday, we were leaving feeling really worn out but loved and peaceful heading into the Christmas season.

And boom! Christmas crashed into us. The decorations, the tree, Santa and shopping has officially commenced, and it's so fun to have a kiddo that really gets what's going on this time of year. Charlie boy talks about Christmas from morning until night, wants to watch movies and read books purely about Christmas, and has about nine thousand questions about Santa. The story's actually a bit confusing to try to relay to a two and a half year old. We spent Sunday evening with the Wahlers clan picking out trees and Monday night decorating. Charlie's not too big on the whole decorating thing, but he loved the brownies. And every morning he's devastated that we've turned the lights off for the tree. We've been talking and reading and watching so much about Santa that I thought he was going to be more into sitting with Santa this year, but I wasn't prepared for this morning. We had to make the dreaded mall trip to knock some things off our list, and as we rode down the escalator, Santa came striding through a door and over to his big green chair. I thought Charlie was going to lose his mind. "Mom! I don't believe it. I don't believe it. Santa is at the mall!" I told him we were planning on talking to Santa tomorrow, but he had to talk to him right then and there. The vain person that lives inside me dashed into Old Navy, bought him a shirt and jumped in line. We were 10 people back, and it took a freaking hour. They were an elf short, but Santa made up for it by spending loads of quality time with each of the kids. By the time Charlie was up, he literally dashed into Santa's lap and would not stop talking. They talked for a good ten minutes about Charlie's new running shoes, if Santa has running shoes at his house, Santa's boots, Charlie's Paul Bunyan boots, Monster Trucks, Charlie's age (he's 5, by the way - we're really working on numbers over here, promise), and where Santa's sleigh was located. He just kept asking, "Where's your silly sleigh you silly old Santa?" Luckily, it was left in the North Pole, or I have no doubt we would have been on a parking lot hunt for the dang thing. When the lady came over to snap a pic, Charlie turned so serious and then eeked out this awesome smile.

This sweet boy has my whole heart. He's kind and funny and wonderfully talkative. We still have a lot to do before Christmas gets here, but gah! I can't wait.

Paul Bunyan

June 28th, 2014 may have forever altered your life, sweet boy. A day trip to Paul Bunyan Land, and poof, you're obsessed. You came back from our annual Minnesota pilgrimage in love with the giant lumberjack, and when I told you we could probably call Paul Bunyan on the phone, the love simply escalated. I, of course, called the one person I knew could jump instantly into character, your uncle Kevin, and the rest is history. We call Paul Bunyan probably weekly - we talk about calling Paul every dang day. God bless your Uncle Kevin and all his random knowledge of Mr. Bunyan and the forest.

As Halloween approached, there was never any question what you would be - Paul Bunlyan (you always add the "L"). You've been walking around pretending to be him - with an awesome deep voice - for months. We just needed the gear, and as the mailman delivered each new piece, your excitement increased exponentially. When he brought the boots? Shoot. They haven't left your feet. The neighbors loved you. And me? Well, I could have just eaten you up. Joy bounces out of you, and it's wonderfully contagious.

Our hearts were so full tonight watching you (each new house was a new adventure), and the church carnival we ended up at was perfection - friends, games, a band, candy, and a playground. We couldn't have asked for anything better. Life's better because of you. Happy Halloween, bud.

Back to Center

Five years ago, I was bawling my eyes out watching the only storm of the summer roll through the hill country certain our day was ruined.

With the ceremony moved inside and my dad promising the florist he'd buy an entire freaking field of flowers if that's what it took to decorate the new space, John and I took a moment to come back to center. Because this day wasn't about venues, flowers, or the weather. It was about us. It was about all the people who'd made it a priority to be there for us. To support us. To love us. 

September 12th will forever remain my favorite day - the day we committed to being a forever family. The day I became a wife. Every year at this time, John and I take some time to come back to center. Come back to where we started. It was such a beautiful beginning.  And while we're not Greek, this quote motivates our yearly centering. 

"We Greeks get married in circles, to impress upon ourselves the essential matrimonial facts: that to be happy you have to find variety in repetition; that to go forward you have to come back to where you began." - Middlesex

I'll always be grateful to those who stood with us on the day we began. I've never felt more loved. Here's to a million more, Boss. There's nobody better than you. Nobody crazier. Nobody funnier. Nobody that loves me better. 

Magic

Our days have been filled with magic the last couple of weeks. Maybe it's because summer is winding down or maybe we've finally hit the deliriously hot portion of the year, and we need these little bits of magic to keep us sane. Whatever the reason these moments are firing rapidly at us right now, I'll take it. And cherish every single bit.

Your oldest cousins and aunt Jen came to visit last week, and the magic began. Having those two kids around is good for my soul. They're kind and smart and really (really!) funny. They're always up for an adventure and make our days so sweet. You're completely smitten with both of them, and they play with you oh-so well. If they'd just move in next door, we'd really have it made. Jackson taught you a bit of magic while he was here. After eating breakfast, the three of you climbed in your crib (one of your latest obsessions is to pile your bed full of people) and talked and laughed for a good 30 minutes. Jackson started pretending to grab his eyeballs with his hands, close his eyes, put his "eyeballs" in his mouth and chew them around and then spit them back into his hands, push them back into his eye sockets and open his eyes. Magic! He was certain you were duped. I was too, actually, until the day after they left I looked back in the car and you, with closed eyes and a chomping jaw, said, "Look, Mama! I ate my eyeballs!" Maybe you're magic too.

Your dad had a conference to go to for work, and this time we got to tag along. It's the first time we've taken a trip truly just the three of us. And it was your first time at a hotel. Your dad headed up early to get registered and checked in, so we road tripped down to San Antonio after nap, and while it was so nice of your dad to get everything settled for us, I wish we could have all arrived together so someone else could have first-hand witnessed your excitement. The only thing you know about hotels is that your cousins Jake and Hudson stay at one when they come to Austin, and you think that's cool, but you have no idea what the word hotel really means. When we drove up to this place you were shocked. "That the hotel, Mama?!" I tried to explain to you that not all hotels are that gigantic (or have waterslides), but I'm pretty sure this is your status-quo now. We stepped off the elevator (or the alligator as you called it all weekend), and you shouted, "OH. MY. GOSH. Mama, this is a hotel!" I think it might have been the carpet that got you so excited, but I really can't be sure. You hit the ground running wondering if every brown door was our brown door. We headed immediately for the pools, and it was a little fish's heaven. There were pools and water slides and a lazy river, and I think you could have just moved right in. You went down the water slides without hesitation and were so enthused by every little thing. We swam way past your bedtime and then headed up for bath and room service. You thought it was down-right hilarious that some man came in your room with a cart full of dinner, "Oh thank you, man. Thank you for my dinner!" He wasn't sure quite what to do with the pants-less child running after him. You slept like a champ on a roll-away, and my absolute highlight was finding you standing by my bed in the morning. I said, "Hi, buddy. You're awake. Wanna jump in my bed?" to which you immediately hopped up and started repeating, "Thank you, Mama. Thank you for saving a pillow for me in your bed. I love it." Every part of our mini-vacation was filled with so much love and excitement, and I cannot wait to take you back there someday, especially when your dad can really hang with us. We had way too much fun.

Yesterday we ran into Santa at the grocery store. Sorry to bury the lead. I guess I should have started the magic there. We were waiting in line to use our "Buddy Bucks," and this plump, white-bearded, jolly fellow walked up and gave you and the girl ahead of you five extra Buddy Bucks. You couldn't believe it. You said, "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" about a million times, and when he went back to grab his groceries from his cart in line you continued to shout, "THANK YOU!" across the aisle to him. He walked back over and pulled out a drivers license-looking card that had a picture of him dressed as Santa and his North Pole address. You were a bit confused until he handed you a coin and read aloud the inscription, "I caught you being good." You were so excited that Santa thought you were a good boy. And I was so thankful he reinforced your sweet behavior. The girl in front of us grabbed the buddy bucks out of his hand while her mom looked on annoyed. He didn't give her a coin. And we got to have a really good conversation about manners because of it. Magic, sweet boy. We're surrounded by magic.

And last, but certainly, not least - you asked to call your GiGi and then later your dad to tell them about your Santa encounter, and after we got off the phone with your dad I asked if there was anyone else you'd like to call and tell before we started bedtime stuff. You said, "Paul Bunyan." What??? I kept my cool and called your uncle Kevin, of course. He played right along talking about his blue ox, Babe, and chopping down trees. You were wide-eyed and glowing the entire conversation. You asked him how his cave was (no idea what you're talking about here) and used every moment possible to say Paul Bunyan, "Hello, Paul Bunyan. I'm Charlie, Paul Bunyan. You live in your cave, Paul Bunyan? Goodnight, Paul Bunyan." I'm certain we'll be calling Paul Bunyan on heavy rotation now that it's an option. Your uncle's gonna have to do some serious research. He's got the voice down pat though, so that's a good start. I'm pretty sure you think this is exactly how the world works - joy, love and laughter. I wouldn't have it any other way. It's magic.

Small Bits

Several times throughout the day, I think, "Oh man, I'm never gonna forget that," and then by the time I go to jot it down, the memory has vanished. You do so many awesomely funny things, and I'm constantly so amazed by your growth, language and memory that I guess it's impossible to hold on to them all. But I want to remember that...

I love to listen to you eat. That's weird, right? But you have the sweetest little smack, and the shear volume of food you can fit in your mouth is unbelievably impressive.

Your singing, O.M.G. Your singing. You sing everywhere and anywhere and all the time, and I love it. You sang, "Happy Birthday" to me almost through our entire shopping trip yesterday. "Old MacDonald" is another classic favorite, and you sing it oh so well. You normally get a little caught up on the moo, moo here and moo, moo there. You love the song "Tongue Tied" by GroupLove right now. I came back from Coachella mildly obsessed with them, and now you have to listen to that song when you get in the car. You call it by name and sing right along picking up new words every time we listen. You also love "Kickdrum Heart" and "Boxcar" . The song "Stay with Me" is your go-to sad song, and you love telling everyone who will listen, "This boy is so sad. He say, Stay with me cause his girl's going bye-bye." You're not too enthused by rap music, and sometimes it makes your dad want to cry.

Whenever you see a white-haired, older gentleman you shout, "Hey Grandpa!"

The imagination is running wild right now - a towel becomes a boat and then a racecar and then a bulldozer all in a matter of minutes. You love to pull your dad and me right into whatever world you're living in and get so excited when we start playing along. It's probably my favorite thing about this age right now. It's beautiful to watch your mind at work. True magic.

Our morning walks have turned into your morning rides, and you're getting so quick on your bike that Stan and I are running to keep up with you. You're our own little personal trainer. Stan's not too keen on the quick pace most mornings, but it's just way too fun to see you speeding around the block. You still run everywhere so purposefully and unbelievably quickly, unless there's a baby. Oh baby...

Babies stop you dead in your tracks. It's the most unreal thing. Luckily, all our friends have or are about to have new babies at their houses because you are smitten. Baby Rocky is your very best friend right now, and there's not a day that passes that you don't ask about him or what he's doing. You pretend that your baby doll is him and tote him all around the house - feeding, changing his diaper, and putting him to sleep. It's true love. And babies at the park better watch out. You're on them like glue. Almost obsessively. Someday sweet boy, some day we'll make you a big brother. Hold fast to that baby love until then.

We had a minor (seemed major in the moment, but don't they always?) rough patch this summer, but we're back on track. You make me laugh every single day. Lets never stop.

Our World

Getting you willingly out of the house this afternoon was a total win. You got a lot of cool stuff for your birthday, and you're pretty contented to just stay and play lately, but a ride to the bank with the promise of a lollipop was all it took. The teller sent us a "Mystery" pop (dreaded, in my book), and what do you know? We unwrapped a blue one. You kinda couldn't contain your excitement, "It's a blue one! I love lollipop! It's dewishus, Mama!" On the way there, we passed a GIANT bulldozer, a tiny bulldozer and a steamroller all "working hard," and your excitement for the lollipop is only matched by your amazement for heavy machinery, so instead of hurrying home to pack, make dinner, wrap presents, empty the dishwasher, move the clothes from the washer to the dryer and fold the other pile, we pulled over. We jumped out of the car, walked down the street and plopped down on the sidewalk to watch the construction. 

We detoured for 10 minutes and then jumped back in the car and headed back to our list of to-do's. It's in these moments that I'm the mom I want to be. I'm the mom that I got to grow up with. The mom that's less worried about all the stuff and more interested in cherishing our time. Tiny memories that barely come back to me but are rooted firmly in my brain - climbing big rocks on the side of the road, feeding horses in random pastures, following a fire truck, stopping at every McDonald's on the way to Tulsa to collect miniature Beanie Babies, quick stops at Alamo park. I want Charlie to remember that we stopped, I listened and we took in this world around us together. 

You snuggled  in my lap crunching a lollipop and pointing out every move, noise and piece of machinery is how I'd keep you forever. 

Note: Tiny moments. We're officially done with the month to month charting. These little details are what I'm afraid I'll miss the most. 

Two Years!

Charlito, you little bandito, you've completely stolen all my love. This time two years ago, I didn't think I could love you more. Then I did. This time last year I was certain my heart gave you all it could give. Then it swelled. You're the coolest, kindest, smartest, cutest, funniest kid I know. Stay this way forever. 

If kids came out two years old, I might have 36 of them. This walking, talking funny little person I get to hang out with all day is just about the coolest thing I've ever done. You're pushing boundaries, of course, but mostly you are just sweet. We go on long walks in the mornings - you almost always run, and I'm amazed at your body's stamina. It just goes and goes and goes. A lady at the store called you a busybody yesterday, and while that word was delivered with some real negative connotations (I think it had something to do with you grabbing entire piles of shirts off the shelves and asking if they were yours), it's a pretty good description. You go, go, go until it's time for nap or bed and then you're zonked. Sleep. Oh, glorious sleep. Your aunt Jen kept telling me it'd come back, but I'm not sure I really believed her. But here it is. You love your bed, and I die just a little bit inside every time you tell me, "Chawlee sooooo tired" and run into your room to sleep. It's the only time you get your pacifiers, and I think your love for sleep has a lot to do with those little suckers. You're still going down around 7/7:30, waking at 7:45/8:15, and napping for a few hours every day. There were several days in a row that you were getting a solid 13 hrs at night, and we got to sleep until almost 9. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. This sleep is a treat, my littlest friend. Thank you.

Just about everything is more fun with you in tow. You talk ALL.THE.TIME and are noticing and wondering so much about your little world. Your number one is still heavy machinery and moving vehicles - diggers, bulldozers, trains, helicopters, motorcycles, and all these words, and so much more, are just forming day to day. Bulldozer (bull-dadaz), helicopter (hel-guyguyz) and motorcycle (mo-guyguyz) have all, in the last couple of weeks, formed into the "right" words, which admittedly I'm a little bummed about. But it's amazing to watch your language evolve from week to week. You have the worlds sweetest voice, and these big words and sentences coming out of your little body just crack me up. You're still mostly talking in the third person, but you've started saying "I" and hold "me" in the last couple of days. You're modeling and mimicking and picking up on so much. And this sad voice you have. Oh my. Well it's part whine and part magic and mostly the cutest thing I've heard. I'm trying not to encourage it, but I also can't stop myself from loving (laughing at) it. The other day at the park I asked if you were okay, you looked kinda bummed, and you said, "No. Chawlee so sad." in the sweetest, most pathetic voice, and then you went on to tell me that the big kid didn't want you touching his bike (which is totally sad). But you never cried about it or got too frustrated, you just communicated in that pathetically sweet voice. Life was sad in that moment, but you went and slid down a slide instead and mostly that made everything okay. You also save this whiney voice when you ask for chocolate for breakfast or popsicles whenever the thought crosses your mind. I love this voice and the curled bottom lip that accompanies it, but I try not to let you know it. Your communication and understanding is still unbelievable. You get everything we say. You understand inflection and looks and really follow direction. Maybe I shouldn't be so completely in awe of this, but I taught high school, and I swear you have better social skills than a good many of my students did. You just seem to get it. You're interested in potty training still too, but I'm so nervous to actually 100% commit. I don't want to push you before you're ready and have everything backfire on us. But we went almost a week without having to change a dirty diaper because you were just so good about telling me you had to go. Sometimes this meant going in our backyard, but not going in the diaper seemed like a win, so we went with it! We've since fallen back into the diaper routine, but I feel proud of you for listening to your body. And one of these weeks we're just gonna go for it. I wish you could just tell me when. 

Your birthday party was a total success. The weather was beautiful, and how lucky you are to be surrounded by so much love. We all went to bed a little happier and completely thankful that night - mostly thankful that you didn't hate your party like you did last year. The entire weekend was kinda magical actually. You wanted us to light a candle and sing "Happy Birthday" to you at almost every meal, and several times throughout the weekend I'd walk up to find you singing it to yourself. It really was a great day. 

Wishing you your best year yet, my tiniest friend. Let's make this terrible two thing a total myth...we're not going there, right??? Right. All my love and more.