I remember when I used to pray for 30 seconds. 30 seconds where I could slip away, unnoticed, and change out of my work clothes. It would never come – I’d either end up carrying two deceptively heavy children with me, or I’d listen to their panicked screams from down the hall where I’d left them, while I quickly changed my clothes.
Last night, though, it happened. I left them playing in their rooms, and slipped down the hall to change. When I got back, they were still laughing and playing, and hadn’t noticed I’d left. It wasn’t until I was putting E to bed that he realized my shirt had changed, and asked me about it. He likes to play with the buttons on my work shirt, and I wasn’t wearing it anymore.
But instead of being happy about getting exactly what I’d been wishing for, I was a little sad. Because they’re getting so big! They still require so much of my time and energy, but not as much as they did. It doesn’t mean I don’t love this stage, though, because I do. G has finally gone from the generic baby who will take comfort from anywhere he can get it, to acting a bit attached to me. Every once in a while he’ll show that he’s not as independent as he’d like us to think. Crawling quickly into my lap after a loud noise. Burying his head in my chest when he’s hurt his finger. Grabbing on to my neck and not letting go when he’s a bit nervous. I love these moments. It’s the payoff of keeping him alive this past year, putting all of his demanding needs ahead of mine, he’s finally acknowledged that I am one of his people.
His love for E came first, obviously. There was no one else he cared about from very early on. Then it was Tom, his chosen person to transport him around, and lift him high into the air. But now it’s finally paying off for me, and I’m loving it. One year olds are amazing. They love you fiercely, it doesn’t take much to make them happy, and their tantrums are still cute. G does this thing I can only describe as a mixture between the sprinkler dance (you know the one – one arm bent and the other out straight as you turn in a semi-circle) and someone dramatically clearing off a desk in the movies. He keeps one arm balled up next to him, and the other out straight, while he flails it left and right as fast as he can. It’s his way of letting you know that NO he is not happy with whatever decision has just been made. Every inch of his little body is desperately trying to convey his displeasure, his entire being tensing up with all the energy he can muster. And then you distract him with something else and as quickly as it started, he forgets what he was upset by.
And while I miss that stage with E, and barely feel like I remember it, where he’s at now is pretty awesome too. The things that come out of his mouth constantly delight me. Driving home from daycare, he said “Baby likes me!” which is absolutely true. I told him that I liked both of them, and named a few other things I liked. I kept asking E if he liked something, even things he definitely loves, and he’d say no.
Me: “Do you like orange?”
E: “NO!”
Me: “Okay, what do you like”
Long pause
E: “…SEAGULLS!”
I almost missed my turn I was laughing so hard. I think he was confused as to why I was laughing so hard, because he wasn’t trying to be funny. It was just so random and unexpected, it made my day. Later while telling the story to Tom, I figured out where the seagulls had come from – they’re featured in a song that Tom sings every day on the way to daycare.
And while this stage brings new challenges, it also brings new opportunities to learn more about this tiny person we created. Because while we joke that each child is just like Tom, or definitely got X from me, they are so much their own independent people that we are just getting to know. Little E is someone who feels things, DEEPLY. He is constantly listening to what’s going on around him, taking in the words, but also the tone and body language of everything that’s happening. You can almost see his ears perk up, his eyes focus and dart back and forth, watching. And he pulls it all inside.
It’s not something a lot of people see, since he does a pretty good job at acting/being happy and normal all day or in front of friends. It’s after daycare pick-up where he’ll slump into my arms and bury his face, or in the car where he’ll silently cry on the way home. There are days he’ll tell me he’s just sad, and needs to cuddle a bit. I had a teacher share a story about how another kid had fallen out of their chair during snack time, and before the teacher could help them up, E was out of his chair, around the table, pulling the kid back into their chair. The teacher tried to assure E that they had it under control, but E refused to go back to his snack until the friend was okay and E was satisfied.
Our little sweetness, our sensitive and compassionate tiny human. Who also occasionally hits his brother over the head with a mop. Because he is still a toddler, after all.
