Dear River,
You actually turned seventeen months old last week, but we
just got done moving from Oneonta, NY to Baltimore, MD and to say this
transition has proved distracting is a generous understatement. You've been a
great comfort to me during this time, letting me know it was time to stop
packing boxes and to go outside to enjoy the sun or that even though I was
leaving so many loved ones behind, you, my most important of important people,
would be with me every moment.
dirt doesn't taste so good
I have many wonderful memories from this past month, most of
them bitter sweet. Daddy's former employer held a good bye party for us at a
local restaurant the night before we left our home. Many other moms and
children came. You and the other curious toddlers ventured from our private
room out into the main dinning area where a two man band was singing covers.
Some of you danced, some waltzed, some of you hid by mom's legs, but you just
asked other mothers to hold you and cuddled against them. In their small
audience's honor, the band played "Old McDonald". At times like that I feel so
connected and I got to share that connection with you. I think we were both
very sad to go.
"helping" mom do laundry
A close friend and her son, J (three days your elder) came
down with us for most of our first week in our new home. You had a constant
playmate to follow around, steal toys from, beat on and wrestle with. It was
basically like having twins underfoot with two
mommies (both of which you call mommy!). The week went something like
this, "Please stop that now. Sit your butt down. No, please. No. I don't care
if your cry, I told you no. I'm going to get you!" REPEAT AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN.
You and J, taken by Other Mommy
The first full night in our new home we all piled into the
car, which involved your petite mother squashing in the backseat with two
toddlers, and went to a Japanese restaurant. Now in Oneonta there is only one
Japanese restaurant and it is run by Chinese people who have little to no
service skills. This place was wonderful. It was the best meal ever with a
mobile child because Hibachi is entertaining and the food is served one section
at a time for us all to munch on. You loved the rice and zucchini, the flames
and the spinning knives. Who needs a child friendly environment for a family
meal when your toddler will be held rapt by the fact that his father failed
three times to catch a section of shrimp in his mouth? (Mom got it her first
and only try! HA!)
Maybe it was the move, maybe it was your stressed out
rambling mother, but you are talking more and more. You now parrot words and
are better at expressing your needs and listening. I can confidently say your vocabulary contains more than
50 words. Only another parent will
understand my pride when you told me you had to go "poop" and we ran to the
bathroom. Even though we didn't make it, I was overjoyed. Seems that reading
about another toddler "sitting down to go poo poo" and narrating my own bowel
related adventures out loud are having a positive effect.
This past weekend was our second mother's day together,
third if you count that in '07 I was puking into a toilet on a daily basis. One
good thing about being out of rural upstate New York is we had several options
of something special to do within a short drive. We settled on the zoo and
spent a little over an hour walking around looking at the animals, both of us
running fevers from some virus that cropped up Friday night. I think we might buy
a membership to the zoo so we can go there often and smell the distinct, varying
aromas of exotic animal urine and feces!
Our life if going to be different here, new and exciting and
maybe a bit lonely for awhile. I promise we'll visit our New York home and all
the friends we left behind there. Now it is back to just the three of us, the
way it was when you first came home from the hospital to our smaller apartment
in our smaller town. In many ways our world has shrunk and in others it has
expanded. Without you River, I think this change would make me very sad, but
because I get to see your daily joys, changes, and triumphs I find that hope is
a roaring bonfire and no longer the little flame that took me up to the day of
your birth.
We're in this together little man.
Much Love,
Mommy
