I Am 18 Months Going on 18 Years, Ladies will Fall in Line

Well, it seems this blog's sole purpose is to communicate your growth to the fans (the fans being your grandma).  18 MONTHS!!!  That's how many you are. Yesterday, I had to buy you a new pair of sandals (thank you, Kohls for still having sandals) because 1.) your feet have grown to such gigantic proportions we have Big Foot hunters camping outside our building and 2.) your old sandals smelled like road kill wrapped up in some bigger road kill that had been wedged in a locker next to a urinal in a boys' locker room for the last six months.  Anyway, I was looking at these size 7 sandals and thinking, "my little baby has turned into a big boy."  And as I was silently weeping, you jarred me back to the present by a squeal that indicated you were, in fact, tired of sitting in the same spot for more than 10 seconds and I needed to move, Jeeves.  Oh, the things that have changed over the last two months.

First off, you have this amazing sense of humor.  Lately, whenever you see a camera or someone appears to be taking a picture of you, you make the above featured face.  You squint up your eyes and open your mouth into this big grin (dimples and all).  It is so funny!  Sometimes, you and I will be playing, and you'll just look at me and start giggling (like Elmo just made fun of my Jay Leno chin, and you're all like, "for sure, Elmo").  You laugh all the time, which I love.  Along with laughter, you have this joyful squeal that is usually used to indicate a dog (or animal of some sort) is within 30 miles of you.  You are such an affectionate, loving child.  My favorite is when you're sitting in my lap and  you look up at me and give me a kiss.  I love that life is mostly a fun time for you.  I love that you feel safe and content and are trusting.  And it's these times of giggling and happiness and kisses that I hold onto with every fiber of my being when I am in the midst of the OTHER times.

The other times.  So, you and temper tantrums have become BFFs.  You guys are texting all the time, especially while I'm shopping...where there are people...with eyes...judging me and my parenting skills.  I was a little shaken by the appearance of Temper Tantrum.  I mean you are my sweet little boy who usually obeys his mama. So, your temper tantrums...how can I describe them?  Well, take that joyful squeal you make around animal life, add some angst, throw in a dash of death metal and sprinkle some Jim Carrey ala Dumb and Dumber (you know, the scene where he's making the most annoying sound in the world?) and you have a resemblance of your angry squeal.  It's horribly grating.  In fact, the CIA has contacted us to see if they can record the squeal to use while interrogating potential enemies of state.  And then, you very gently and intentionally place your body on the ground (which is very nice of you) and kind of cry.  It's not a real cry because there are no tears.  I call it your Meryl Streep cry, because it is quite a performance. It's awesome.  Especially in the check out line at Ikea or in the middle of Office Max after I thwart your attempts to steal pens. 

These temper tantrums aren't a regular occurrence.  They usually take place after shopping for too long, when we you have to come inside, or when you are hungry...kind of like your dad's.  Which, honestly, I can totally sympathize.  When your friend, Temper Tantrum, first arrived, all belligerent and smacking his gum, I was distraught.  Was I a bad mother?  Am I not consistent enough?  Aside from these temper tantrums, you are usually pretty obedient.  When we tell you "no," you are pretty quick to comply.  We do have times (usually when we change your diaper or try to wipe your face after a meal) where you turn into a diva, but we are pretty good with handling these situations.  I did a lot of reading about temper tantrums.  And here's what I've decided: it's normal.  You are normal.  Toddlers throw temper tantrums (and please, random reader, don't tell me your toddler doesn't, otherwise, I may have to talk about you behind your back).  I just need to be patient and hope that when you're 13, you will have outgrown this phase.

You have had such a fun summer.  Not because we've visited exotic lands or conversed with the whales, but simply because you love being outside.  L-O-V-E it!  You swim, you run, you climb up slides, you put bugs in your mouth, you play with any ball you stumble across, you write poetry to tractors, you sing, you dance.  You are at peace outside.  In fact, I think you secretly wish you were born into the Swiss Family Robinson.  It's kind of nice for me (because isn't life about pleasing your mother?  Isn't it?).  I feel like your love for the outdoors forces me to be more fit and less couch potatoey.  It really is an all out workout to keep up with you. 

When you were a wee baby, friends, who had little boys, would look at you and comment about not remembering when their boys were as little as you were.  I remember thinking, "how can you forget what this feels like?"  And now, as I try to wedge my ginormous foot from my mouth, I get it.  You are growing up so fast.  I found one of your newborn diapers during our move (oh, yeah...we moved this month...which is a story that deserves its own post.  Look for it soon.), and could not believe that your cute little tushie (you're welcome, 17 year old Eli) used to fit in that diaper.  I feel like I write this every time I write an Eli update, but your growth and development constantly amaze me.  You can walk (and run away from us), you can talk (not in sentences, but your point is heard), you can decide that you do or don't want to do something, you feed yourself.  You are nearly self-sufficient.  Almost more than some high school students I used to know.

I love watching you grow into a little man.  And it cannot be said enough, but I love you more than I can say to you in a lifetime.  Happy 18 months, Eli-eli-oh!