Letters to the O

Forty One Months

This month brought the return of your old babysitter Jesse, much to everyone's delight. You've missed her these past few weeks and while the substitute babysitters were adequate, no one can really replace her. Believe me, I'm well aware!

School has been going well and your teachers continue to be full of enthusiasm for your work ethic. The head teacher confided in me that she believed you would start to read within the year. I was pretty psyched to hear that because I've been afraid due to the fact that I have invested little to no effort in making that happen, we would miss the opportunity to turn you into a total nerd. Turns out, it'll likely be a natural talent.

This month I promised your Dad I would relate two of our favorite Owen stories for this post. One has to do with your ongoing mischievousness, which has escalated in recent weeks. You've been pretty sneaky- closing doors and disappearing in public and private to do things you know would bring great wrath down from the skies. The other day you came in from outside and your shirt was sopping wet. You've begun to dress yourself so you started to strip it off and talked to me about finding a new shirt. I stopped you though and asked why your shirt was wet. You responded "I don't want to tell you because you'll be mad." After much assurances that you could avoid repercussions if you were honest, you disclosed that you had been peeing in the backyard. Dad and I were puzzled- "How did you shirt get wet then?" You not only told us you had been attempting to pee like the dogs, but you also gave a full demonstration, getting down on all fours and lifting your back leg. Ah... makes perfect sense now!

You've been pretty annoying lately, impatient for an answer and constantly interrupting Dad or I when we are trying to talk. It's also been raining every day, like a weird monsoon season has descended on Utah, so we've been cooped up inside a lot, getting on each others nerves. We were all in the office and a thunderstorm was rolling through. You were fussing about something and Dad, impatient with you, murmured something about how you were so annoying that you were making the sky mad. I turned to reprimand Dad, but you beat me to it. Furrowing your brow, you looked at him and pointed your finger. "The sky is NOT a guy, Dad. It's not. That noise is the thunder. It's because the clouds are bumping each other. It's not a guy, Dad."

It's amazing the way you remember every single word that falls from my lips and I'm a bit panicked to find I have such terrible power to corrupt or inspire. You've learned every little bit you know about reacting to adversity, conflict resolution and expressing yourself by absorbing the actions of the adults around you like a sponge. We were reading books before bed the other night and you got up to peer out the window at another storm rumbling through the valley. You came back to me sitting on the floor, cupped my cheek in your hand to direct my eyes to your face and said reassuringly- "Don't worry, mommy. It's just the storm, Mama. There's some wind and it's blowing things around." You know. Just in case you were worried that the guy from the sky was trying to blow our house over.

Letters to the O

Forty Months

I can hardly believe that it's time to write one of these again. The month has flown by in whirlwind of chaos and change. Through it all you have emerged on the other side with your laughter, sense of humor and stubborn independence intact.

This month we transitioned to you attending school full time because your long time babysitter, Jesse, moved away. Due to poor planning and unavoidable circumstances on the part of the parents in your life, this was also a time when your father was working a great deal. So for much of the month, it's been just you and me.

It's been the best of times, it's been the worst of times... We sure know how to drive each other crazy. But for all the minutes we've spent being annoyed at each other, we've also spent just as many laughing and enjoying the company of each other and the abundant spring sunshine. Saturdays have been filled with running errands together, hiking or small excursions to museums. Sundays are lazy mornings and busy afternoons, outside doing yardwork or inside cleaning house.

You've been way into alliteration this month and if I'm not careful, I inadvertently reinforce it. Instead of asking for "snack," you ask for "mack, nack, quack, attack." You affectionately call me "swommy," and take my face into both of your hands, gritting your teeth and pressing our foreheads together. I could make you say what you mean, but I'm afraid I find it terribly cute and can't be bothered.

One of the things that surprised me but I should have guessed was that you began to get in trouble at school. I would come to pick you up and you would share an account of an argument with another boy or having to stay inside for not following directions. I've noticed that your teachers now get to experience the "real" Owen, the boy who whines and stubbornly pouts. Ha ha- he does exist!

School is just one of many things that has become a land of contradiction. I drop you off, clinging to me and sobbing about how you don't want to go and I pick you up, upset about having to leave your friends and pouting. I'll carefully explain the consequences of a choice, you'll choose, and then you'll break into hysterics one minute later because it should have been obvious to me that you really wanted the other choice. That you can't live without the alternative you previously refused. Sigh. Grumble, grumble. I know I can expect the heavy doses of irrationality to end soon. But when??? You've also gotten pretty mouthy and just the other day you told me to "Shut the hell up." Hmmm. Wonder where you heard that before?!

The flip side of all this stubbornness and opinionated independence is that you genuinely enjoy and are glad to be able to help when I can get you to buy into whatever it is that we're trying to accomplish. Just yesterday you spent hours outside, cleaning up after our landscaping mess and putting branches one by one into the back of the truck. And I think you would have continued to do this until your feet fell off if you had been given the opportunity. It made you happy to be working closely with us, to be able to help and participate. And I'm hoping we can hold onto that for many years to come. Because I have ALOT of plans for all that energy.

Letters to the O

Thirty Nine Months

Yes, I'm well aware this post is late. But I have a good excuse. For most of this month, when you weren't fighting an illness that included a racking cough and congestion, you were fighting me. This was the month of sheer defiance at every turn.

I'll try to recount some of your misadventures, although I'm sure I'll forget a few. You flooded the bathroom floor with water from the tub, colored one of the dogs with blue marker and broke innumerable toys. Perhaps most disturbing, you've begun to take a fancy to leaning off the side of your bed during nap time and spitting or even worse, urinating on the carpet. There have been innumerable tantrums and chasing and torturing the dogs has become your new pastime. I look back on how I felt a few months ago, when I was certain we were going through the worst of this destructive and rebellious phase. Ahhh- how naive!

This month you've also made incredible strides at school. One evening, when I threatened to remove the books from your bed because you refused to settle down, you informed me that I couldn't take away your books because you were learning to read at school and needed to practice. You've been infatuated with drawing and after I recently got you new markers, you've spent hours at the easel, carefully utilizing each color to craft pictures that now actually slightly resemble something.

It's finally turned warm and you spend hours outside, puttering around and laying on your back staring up at the sky. You love to take long rides around the block with the dogs, pedaling your tricycle furiously or bury your cars out back in your sand table.

You've also been full of questions about everything. Seriously. Everything.

Why does it rain?
Do you have a mommy and daddy?
Where did Miles come from?

Your desire to be independent this month has taken center stage and you've begun to dress yourself, brush your own teeth, and clean up after yourself when severely hassled. You hate holding my hand in public and now refuse to sit on my lap when we read books at bedtime. I've begun to see how much I might miss your reliance on me on of these days and I'm thinking it's coming sooner rather than later. So I've begun to make efforts to slow down, to savor our time together and to remember that as difficult as it might be now, some day it will all be over. And I'll never regret taking the time to get to know you better.

Pictures: UPDATED!!!

I know. It's difficult to believe. But we have actually updated at least three months worth of pictures of Owen. Check them out here and enjoy!

Letters to the O

Thirty Eight Months

For the first time since I began writing these monthly newsletters, I can't think of any major changes, advancements or events that you've undergone in the past few weeks. We've settled into a groove of sorts with school, a busy work schedule and a quiet home life as we wait for spring to begin.

With perhaps one exception being your tendency to sass back about everything. You're that kid in the store who gets a gentle nudge to keep walking from his parent and he stops in his tracks and begins to scream "Don't you push me- stop pushing me!" You're back on the "why" phrase but now it's a weapon you wield until I am reduced to puddles of frustration and respond with the phrase I swore I would not use- "Because. Now BE QUIET."

You've decided you LOVE school and would like to go everyday. Which we're definitely considering accommodating. You've begun to recognize some words and can count somewhat reliably, so it seems to have it's advantages. In addition to the fact that it enables me to get some work done without going insane.

Drawing and coloring is your new infatuation and you've spent several hours and an entire roll full of easel paper over the last month writing letters, making shapes and experimenting. It's interesting though because you like company when you do it and ask Dad or I to come "marker" with you. Your approach to this activity is always the same- you distribute one color to your partner and keep the one of your choice. We are allowed a minute to color and then we must switch to a new colored marker. The activity is not completed until each marker has been utilized, no exceptions.

You've also shown an amazing mastery of vocabulary with limited exposure. Let me explain what I mean by that. We were at our friend's house for a night of impromptu dinner, drinks and a little poker. It was way past your bedtime but you showed no signs of fatigue and so we let you sit up at the table. You referred to the chips as wheels and begin to use the lingo- "check" you would yell out or "all in." You were up until midnight playing poker and stacking chips. You may be the only three year old who can claim an intimate knowledge of poker. Well, at least around here.

I've been forced to put in quite a lot of extra hours at work and while you've been a pretty good sport about it, it's been hard on all of us. Recently you asked Dad "Why does Mommy work so much?" and once, when I came out to spend some time with you and play in the living room you told me I should "go back to your office." Relief to my workload is on it's way and since next month may be our last month with your babysitter, Jesse, I'm going to seize the opportunity to take a more involved role in your life again. The way it should be.