I’m trying to figure out just where in the world the last year went. Last April when TLB had his first birthday, we had a small, understated celebration -- TLB, my husband and I went to dinner with my parents, TLB’s Godparents, and Uncle Roland. He was still a baby then. He barely walked, talked even less, and didn’t like the icing on his cake. It was a fun celebration, but it was hardly momentous.
Now, inexplicably, TLB is about to turn TWO. All of a sudden, it seems, I have a little boy living in my house. Not only does he walk and talk and eat cake, he jumps, dances, sings, plays drums, slides down slides and rides horses. He names colors and shapes, and counts to ten in English, Spanish and Korean (French is a work in progress). He eats with utensils, colors with crayons, throws and kicks balls, says “please” and “thank you,” and insists on doing so many things himself. Where did this kid come from?
He had his two year check-up the other day, and the nurse bombarded me with questions about his development. Can he climb stairs? Can he jump? Can he stack blocks? Can he speak fifty words? My first thought was, “Should I be counting words?” My second was, “Well, I imagine so. Thirty of them are numbers.” Then, “The kid says ‘trombone,’ ‘dinosaur,’ ‘tortoise’ and ‘avocado.’ I really think he’s doing okay, vocabulary-wise.” What I SAID was, “Yes.” I saved my bragging for this blog.
Of course, TLB’s rapidly approaching two-ness isn’t ALL manners and singing and dancing. He can go from “Wow, if I’d known it would be this awesome I would have had kids years ago” to “Oh, so this is why people shake babies” in a matter of seconds. Don’t want to wear those pants (“WANNA PANTS!”). Those raisins don’t have yogurt on them (“NO! WHITE RAISINS!”). I want to put my pajamas on myself (“MY DO IT!”). Any of those scenarios can melt down into an episode of body-flinging, arm-swinging, incoherent screaming. I do my best to keep my cool and get through it in a gentle, reasonable manner. I don’t always succeed, but I feel like I deserve an A for effort. Or maybe an A minus. A solid B plus at the least.
Still, those episodes are few and far between. They happen, sure, but I understand why they happen. Really, the “Terrible Twos” aren’t so terrible. They’re just occasionally frustrating.
Sometimes, I feel worse about my behavior than his – those times when I start talking through clenched teeth and muttering words that aren’t in my everyday Teacher Vocabulary. I get angry, when I know it’s not really his fault. After all, he’s not old enough to know better, but I am.
There are moments, and lots of them, when I wonder if I’m doing things right. After all, I’ve never really been around toddlers. I have no frame of reference. I don’t know what’s normal and what’s bratty. I’m just kind of fumbling through motherhood and hoping for the best. Parenting is hard!
And I wouldn’t trade it for anything. This kid – this dancing, singing, dinosaur-loving little boy – really, really is a gift. I’m not sure what I did to deserve such an awesome gift, but I thank God every day for him.
