Squidbits

Two-plus months of squidbits, oy. There's a reason I do this every month! I can't remember what happened two months ago, now, and it's like he's a whole different kid. I mean, it's really like he's a whole different kid, because he got this haircut, oh my God, and my baby is not a baby anymore, he's a little boy. I might have cried, but you can't prove it. This has, however, prompted me to attempt to make the switch from calling him "Baby [Squid]" to calling him "Mister [Squid]", because he is almost two and two -year-olds are not babies. So far, so good - I still refer to him as a baby in general, but the moniker has made a successful transition.

 

Although, you know, maybe he's a whole different kid, or maybe I'm a whole different mama. I suspect a bit of both are at work. Now that I am feeling better, I can really enjoy my time with him. We play! We read books! We have conversations! I hardly ever feel stressed out or unable to cope anymore, and I'm sure that my better mood carries over to him a little.



...I'm really not sure how to write about the last two months. I mean, we went to Mexico! We went to Illinois! We had Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and New Years'! We threw a party for the whole neighborhood on Christmas eve and our house was full of light and warmth and good food and good neighbors and munchkins! My parents came down on Christmas day for present-opening, and we videoconferenced with my in-laws so they could join us. There has been so much going on that any attempt to summarize it now would be tedious and listy, and yet all of it was so delightful that I want to share it. Damnit. Never skipping one of these posts again, I tell you.



Mostly because they're for me, so I can remember what each month was like. And there has been so much I want to fix in my mind. This is a golden time for us. Today, once we were washed and dressed and fed and packed, I said, "Okay, Mister Squid, time to go to daycare! Here's your job!" and handed him his sippy cup (his "job" is to carry the cup to the car.) And he clutched his cup and walked out the door with me, and paused on the porch to wave to his Daddy and say "Bye bye!" and then held out his hand to me, so I could hold it as he went carefully down the steps. His face lights up every day when I pick him up after work - it's like he starts to glow when he sees me at the door. He makes up games and plays them with us and laughs and laughs and laughs. And he tells me long stories in Squiddish, with real English words creeping in more and more all the time.



Words he can say: "Die" has morphed into a proper "hi!" and "bye bye!" "No," "yeah," and "more" are holding strong, and have been joined by that toddler staple, "mine." Also "cracker," "bagel," "this," "that," "please," "again," and "night." "He has a few simple phrases - "Oooh, what's that?" and "Where'd it go?" and has said several more things as repeats that aren't yet "use on your own" words. He talks on the phone whether there is someone on the other end or not - long, expressive conversations - and can make monkey noises with a monkey doll and train noises for a train and fire engine noises for a fire engine. And of course, "Nice!" for loud burps or farts. Hee. Himself is making me watch my language (which is hard, as I am one foul-mouthed motherfucker) lest he pick that up as well.

Tangent: Seven years ago, my father and I were building a fence together, to keep my dogs in. I was, as is my wont on manual labor projects, cussing a blue streak at the boards as I wrestled them into place and drove the screws in.

My father, after about half an hour of this and a particularly creative bit of swearing on my part, observed, "You've got a foul mouth on you, bitch!"

"Where do you think I got it from, asshole?" I replied.

Um, yeah.



In less horrifying news, now that the Squid has short hair, there is a little sweet divot right at the nape of his neck that I love to warm the tip of my nose in. I will be so sad once he does not want hugs and kisses and snuggling all the time, because he is so awesome I want to eat him up. People said I would feel like this about infancy, which, NO - you can have pretty much the whole first year, be my guest - but I am wanting to cling to every moment of these days now. I have never been happier to be a mother.



Which is not to say that we have gotten off scot-free. He is almost two, after all. On bad days, he is like trying to deal with a horde of angry squirrels. Tied together with string. And his crankiness, though it comes and goes, is impressive, involving shrieking, whining, clinging to pants legs, and throwing himself on the floor inconsolably. During a particularly tough patch, I said to my friend, exasperated, "He has to learn that you can't always get what you want by clutching someone's legs, burying your face in their crotch, and whining!"

"I didn't think boys ever grew out of that," she said.

He was naughty for the first time in early November - told to sit down in his chair, he looked straight at his Daddy and stood back up - and the need to institute discipline and rules is upon us. We have phased out all before or after-dinner snacks, and all movies unless one of us is sick. He eats what we eat now, not special meals. We have him put his own toys away, and help with his own diapering, and we are making clearer distinctions between what is okay to play with and what does not belong to babies. I am so very exceedingly grateful to be feeling better these days; there is no way I could have handled this before the new medication. It takes emotional effort to be a structured parent and enforce rules, and I have regained stability just in the barest nick of time.



With his new independence and willfulness come good things, too. We're seeing the leading edge of imagination and pretend play - he has a plastic giraffe and some dinosaurs that he makes walk around and roar (did you know that giraffes roar? They do.) and he pretends to drive steering wheels. He sits backward on the kitchen chairs and says, "chkachkachkachkaOooOoo" like a train, and he interacts with the pictures in books, recognizing that a train is going away, or that the caterpillar is eating things, or that in one picture there are cookies and in the next they are "all gone." I am so excited for this little guy who is figuring out his world!



I'm sure there are a million things I'm leaving out, here, but I'm so late with this that they can go in the next Squidbits in just a few weeks. Essentially, life is good these days. The Squid is good. The Squidmama is good. The year of the Rat is starting out on a promising foot (paw?) and I can only hope that we go on as we have begun.