Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Eli Flying the Friendly Skies - 14 Months

So, I'm probably going to write this every month now, but oh em gee,  you change at phenomenal rates.  Just when I think I've mastered Eli, version 1.1, you present this whole new operating system, which is faster, slimmer, has better gaming and is equipped with wi-fi. 

 (I heart ketchup...on everything)

One of the biggest events this past month, aside from your ever expanding vocabulary, is your first plane ride.  We took a plane out to see your great-grandpa this past month.  Now, I have to tell you, I was envisioning crying, writhing, screaming, arrests, detainment, trials, appearances on Larry King, our story appearing for the first time on Oprah, etc.  Why do I worry?  Tell me.  Does the Lord not take care of everything?  You were AMAZING!  People would stop at our seats as we were de-planing to praise your amazing awesomeness.  You did better than some adults on the plane.  You were great!


Now, let's talk about your personality and how much fun it is.  If I were your age and we went to the same playground, we would totally be best friends.  I mean, you kind of are my best friend now.  What, Norman Bates?  That is not weird.  We hang out all day, every day.  You've seen my "too-lazy-to-wash-my-face-last-night-now-I-have-raccoon-mascara-under-my-puffy-7am-eyes face".  Granted, you give me this adorable double-take when you see me like that, but you still call me me mama in public even after you've seen it.  I digress.  Anyway, your personality.  You are such a ham.  I really don't know where you get it.  I mean just because I make up songs about what we're doing and your dad plays air trombone when we're driving doesn't necessarily mean you would also go the humor route.  You have this fake laugh you use when other people are laughing and you're not really sure why but you don't want to seem out of the loop so you'll just act like you get it.  It's hilarious. 

I am almost afraid to write this down for fear that it will end, but you are the most loving little boy.  You are constantly giving kisses, hugs, cuddling, etc.  I don't even have to ask for a kiss most of the time.  You will be off in your own world, praying for a tractor to drive by, when you are suddenly overcome by an urge to shower me with affection. I don't want this phase to end. But I know that probably in 13 years, you'll demand that I drop you off a block from your school so that you don't have to claim you know the woman with the "too-lazy-to-wash-my-face-last-night-now-I-have-raccoon-mascara-under-my-puffy-7am-eyes face".  And, honestly, I probably would be worried if you acted this way once your voice started changing.  But I'm loving the fact that you are such a snuggle-bug right now.  You can almost blow kisses, but you get distracted half way through and just start sticking your hand in your mouth. 

 (snuggling with Uncle Jason)

It's so amazing to me that even though you don't have an extensive vocabulary, you still understand what we're saying to you.  When we tell you to put something back, you do it (unless you get distracted and put it in your mouth).  When we tell you to go get your pacifier, you find one of your many hiding spots and bring it to us (side note: I found one of your pacifiers in the fridge the other day.  Eli, are you sleep-snacking again?).  You know what we mean when we say "bath time", "diaper", "go bye-bye", "bed time", "Thomas video", "grandma/grandpa", "eat", "high chair", "Wheel of Fortune", etc., etc. 

And your vocabulary is ever-expanding.  At this point, you can say (do you want to sit down, b/c I am going to write every word you can say): mama, dada, ball, yum, good, good job, car, truck, dog, keys, gama/gampa, that, and shoe.  When we're driving somewhere, you are in the backseat making sure that we are aware of the cars and trucks that are also on the road. 
  (watch out ladies)
Along with being fascinated by cars, you are obsessed with our car keys.  You take our keys and put them in and out of your shopping cart (the toy you hand picked).  You put them in the shoe basket, in the seat cushions, in your toy chest, etc.  My favorite hiding spot was when I found them in my rain boots.  You've also taken to removing all your toys from the toy basket or all the shoes from the shoe basket or all of your books from the book basket so that you can put them back.  You love stacking things in like-piles and then putting them back (for the most-part) in their proper location.  A son after his mother's OCD heart. 

 (stacking your books on top of dad)
I know this post is reaching Tolstoy length, but I have one more thing that you've started doing this past month.  Climbing.  You have the upper-body strength of one of those pommel horse gymnasts.  You pulled yourself up onto your activity table and then tried climbing onto the TV stand thingy.  You can get up onto the coffee table.  You can almost pull yourself up onto our couch and chair.  I'm pretty impressed.  But with climbing comes falling, which you also love to do.  You like to perch yourself on the arm of our big chair and fall into your kick-and-crawl aquarium tunnel.  Actually, fall and then roll.  It takes 10 years off of my life. 
 
 I am constantly blown away by the changes that take place with you every day.  I keep expecting to wake up one morning and find you making coffee and yelling at the t.v because Matt Lauer is making some thoughtless remark.  You are getting so big so fast.  I am so blessed that I get to spend my days with you watching you make new discoveries, learn new words, climb new furniture.  I hope you're having as much fun as I am.  If not, I guess I can foot the bill for your future therapy. 

3 comments:

Chrystal said...

You should write a book, Jeanette . . . seriously. Perhaps, about the joys and adventures of motherhood. You posts are comical, yet filled with meaning and love. What a good mommy!

rachel said...

That last picture of Eli is beautiful. I mean, they all are - but the lighting in that one is so great.

I agree with Chrystal. You need to write a book. But wait until I have a kid, so we can publish our collaboration of essays. :)

Verification word: "epezzle" fo shezzle mah nezzle.

Matthew and Meagan said...

I agree with Chrystal and Rachel. You have to write a book. You have such snarky whit.