33 Months!

Little Bear,

As of yesterday, you are a happy, healthy thirty-three-month-old. 33! Pause and soak that in for a second. We might be slightly unconventional parents, but we are having a blast and you are thriving. I really couldn’t ask for more.

However, at the moment I’m still recovering from your post-church, pre-nap fit. In a word, it was impressive. You really left it all on the stage, kiddo. BRAVO. So instead of sitting inside writing you a long monthly letter, I’d like to go play outside with you and laugh off our frustrations. What do you say? In the meantime, I’ll give you some bullet points and pictures.

The condensed version of the last month is that we had a ridiculous amount of fun. Also, your family (immediate and extended) is CRAZY. Just keep that in mind throughout your life and the rest of the world will make sense.

Highlights:

• You now wear underpants. Pretty much the awesomest thing ever. Nice work, buckaroo.
• You sometimes still brandish your penis as a weapon and pee all over the house. Not as cool.
• I often get to hear you say “I would like more salad please.” This sentence makes me one of the happiest moms around. Polite. Veggie-loving. *swoon*
• You LOVE camping. To the extent that we put a tent in your room to sleep in.
• You and I road tripped to Spokane to do the Bloomsday 8k with a posse of your cousins. Loud crowded fun!
• You love every one of your cousins with enthusiasm and fierce adoration. Memorial day was a slice of heaven for you.
• The other night, the neighbor kids were outside playing and you called from your bed “Help me, Mama. I need my earplugs!” For the record, you don’t have earplugs. But you constantly make me laugh.
• You’re OCD. You line up all of our shoes, straighten rugs, and can’t move until the Velcro straps of your shoes are absolutely, precisely perfect. This does not come from my side of the family.

Little Bear, you are a busy, creative, exuberant, filthy, hilarious, tender-hearted boy who happens to be wicked smart. There is no relaxation when you’re around, but there’s almost always laughter. You’re not short on personality. This month we celebrated Mother’s Day and I’m so grateful for, and humbled by, the opportunity to be your mama. My life is much bigger and better for it. I love you, sweet boy.

Love,

Your Mama

You and Dexter (and the rest of the cousins!) had a blast on Bloomsday weekend.

You love driving the tractor

Mother’s day – I’m so proud to be your mama!

Terrorizing the neighborhood with Opa. You have a beautiful bond with all of your grandparents!

Lots of splashing in the water over Memorial Day weekend!

You are never without a truck. Or five.

Eating watermelon with Colter and Milo.

Ragin’ the Sage!

31 Months, BIRD

Dear Roper,

What’s up, BIRD?

That’s what you like to say instead of “What’s up, dog?” And then you giggle hysterically. If it gets a chuckle out of us, you’ll keep going with “What’s up, COW?” and “What’s up, KITTY?” and then laugh until you snort.

When your dad and I hug, you come racing into the room with your one arm pumping (it’s a signature run, I’m not sure why you only use one arm. Style, maybe?) and shout, “Here comes the peanut butter!!” and squeeze in-between us so you can be the best part of an already good sandwich.

You constantly crack us up. You’ve picked up a few oddities from your dad like using the word “Gandhi” instead of “gone.”  So when you finish eating your apple, you exclaim, “My apple’s Gandhi!”

Your enthusiasm is tough to beat. When you play with your motorcycles, your commentary gets increasingly louder. “I’m riding a motorcycle, dude. Yeah, dude!! A MOTORCYCLE, DUDE. YEEAAAHH!” and then the whole town is suddenly aware that you’re playing with your motorcycles.

Speaking of shrieking…..were we not speaking of shrieking? It’s hard for me to tell, because my ears are still ringing from The Target Incident. I had to leave my cart in Target and haul you out of there, screaming at the top of your lungs, pinwheeling your arms, kicking and head-butting me, and knocking things off the shelf. To make matters worse, you biked to the store so I had to carry you – not unlike trying to hold a bobcat who just had a leg cut off with a chainsaw – AND your bike. Funsies!

Dear patrons and store staff, glaring at me doesn’t really help the situation Mainly because I can’t see you with all the sweat (mine), thumbs (Roper’s) and tears (both) in my eyes. Save your hate for the parent who let their kid terrorize the store by bike.

Oh wait, that was me. NEVERMIND.

Luckily, we survived. And at your core, you’re a sweet, sweet boy. You talk about flowers being beautiful with a reverent tone, you hug me with all your might and you make out with your stuffed animals with unrivaled passion. Actually, that last part is a little conflicting for me. It’s adorable, but also a tad disturbing.

You’re tough. The other night, you and your dad were up at the property working on the dirt bike. When you got home, your dad said something about you complaining that your finger hurt and that it needed kissed. I took a look at your fingers and two of them were burnt and blistered down their entire length. You had, at some point, put your hand against the work light (ouch!) but you were too busy playing to mention it until you got in the car.

I kissed those cute little fingers and we haven’t heard a peep out of you since. Aside from an occasional request for new camo bandages. Because those are awesome.

Little Bear, we got to camp with you for three days at the Desert 100 and it was a blast! You loved the “Rainbow camper” and totally immersed yourself in the dirt biking world. It was awesome watching you ride around on your KTM strider. I could tell that in your mind, you were on a dirt bike just like the “big kids”. I can’t wait until we can all ride together as a family. You’ll probably surpass my skill level within the first year, but it’s going to rock.

Thank you for another adventure-filled month, sweet boy. You make me proud!

Love,

Your Mama

30 Months of Awesome Sauce

Dear Roper,

Today you are 30 months old. Two and a half. To the rest of the world, you are two because the rest of the world doesn’t measure things in months and halve-sies. But I remember when you were first born and we were counting your life by breaths, then minutes, and finally by hours as you healed from your resuscitation and the hole in your lung.

Your strength has always amazed me

So, today is your half birthday and I intend to celebrate. Especially since it’s also your cousin’s birthday and Dr. Seuss’ birthday. ICE CREAM!!

Little Bear, you are good company. You have an amazing sense of humor and are overflowing with personality. You engage people – complete strangers – at a level that still startles me.

Sometimes you make me burst out in laughter despite my best efforts to look stern. Recently, you’ve been testing out different facial expressions and hand gestures to go along with your quirky little jokes. It has me ROLLING in the car. You are the king of sound effects and weird head movements.

You call me dude.

You are also very thoughtful. You ask where the moon goes during the day. And if we can’t see the moon at night you ask “Is the crescent moon hiding behind its blankets? Where did it go?” You pick up on people’s emotions and want to know what causes them. You give me back rubs.

Little Bear, your adventurous spirit is still running strong. You’ve become an impressive little biker – going off curbs, riding through the snow, trying out little jumps and obstacles. We took you to arena cross and you loved the monster truck ride. You went snowshoeing, are on a soccer team and adore helping your dad up at the property. You and I have guitar jam sessions in the morning. We suck and it’s awesome.

When I peek in your crib at you at night to admire you in your darling footed pajamas with your soft white hair, cherubic cheeks and pouty lips, I watch you breathe. It’s amazing to see you so STILL. It’s an abnormal state. And then I whisper, “Goodnight, Little Bear” and you, without opening your eyes, belch out “Night, Mom” in a surly tone, as you sigh and throw your arm over your eyes.

It’s puzzling. You usually have the sweetest little voice. Sometimes, in the morning, you sing little songs in your crib and it melts my heart. Your voice is like cotton candy and easter chicks wrapped in soft blankets. Until you want my attention. “MOM! I’M READY TO GET OUT!” You holler in a booming voice. I come into your room expecting to find a 6-foot-tall, hairy man-child straining the seams of adult-size footed pajamas crammed in your crib.

Honestly, I can’t wait to see what you’re going to be like when you turn into that surly teenager. But I’m enjoying every second getting to that point.

We love you, Little Bear. More than you’ll ever comprehend….until you have your own little critter who shouts “I toot-tooted out of my bum-bum” and laughs hysterically until he can’t breathe. Then you might know.

Love,

Your Mama