This morning, I woke up before everyone else. As I lay in bed willing myself to get out of bed, I heard Jackson cry out over the monitor once, then again. Then silence. I stayed in bed, stretching, enjoying a few moments in the early quiet. Suddenly, over the monitor I heard a quiet whispering little voice:
Dahdahdah Ehmo’s wrord
Dahdahdah Ehmo’s wrord.
He kept at it for a few minutes, while I enjoyed listening to his happy little song. To hear him quiet, not yet bouncing into the day.
There are moments of this age that are hair rippingly frustrating, for us both. I see that he can’t regulate his emotions, but it doesn’t mean I enjoy it when he screams, or hits, or bites. I know that he’s got to learn appropriate ways to release his pent up energy, but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard to have him release it on me. I get that tantrums, pushing boundaries, and testing newfound abilities are all normal developments–but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t sometimes drive me to drink.
But oh, are there moments that make up for it.
He’s becoming such a little person, and I love watching little moments that make me think he’s gonna grow up ok. That we’ll all get through this Very Trying Time at least relatively intact. Moments where he’s kind to other people, where he laughs instead of cries, where he gives up things he wanted to share with others. Moments where he freely gives affection, where he faces the things he’s afraid of, where he smiles that megawatt smile.
Moments when I can say with all honesty that I love this age.
We were at the bookstore the other day to play with the train table, and there was a little girl who was about five who wouldn’t relinquish any of the 10 trains she had. That left a train for Jackson and a train for another little girl who was about one. The older girl snapped at him when he walked up to the table, and said “I’m playing with THESE trains. You can’t have any!” Rather than make a fuss, Jackson played happily with his one train, even though you could tell he didn’t understand why the older girl wouldn’t share at least *some* of her trains.
When she finally left, he went over to ALL the trains she had been hoarding. He grabbed one, two, three, four…and he took them over to the littler girl, handing them to her one by one. After he had given her those four, he went BACK to the pile left by the older girl…and grabbed two for himself.
The entire rest of the time we were there, he only played with three trains. And when we were leaving, and another little boy had showed up, Jackson walked over to him and handed him all the trains, and then in his sweet little voice, said “Byyyeeee!”
I hold on tightly to the moments of sweetness. There are a lot of them– in fact, on a day when I’m not exhausted by the toddlerhood of the toddler, I’d even venture that they’re the majority.
He accidentally bonks his head into mine. I know it hurts him because he lets out a little “ow,” but before I can even react, he looks at me and says,
“You alright mommy?”
He sits in my lap watching tv, when all of a sudden he turns to me and says,
“Be my best fwend mommy?”
He comes into our room in the morning, dragging his Cars blanket with him. He comes over to my bedside and says,
“Lay next to mommy?”
He’s eating some pineapple that he’s wanted all day. He has about five pieces in front of him, and he is eating them with exuberance. He eats all but the last piece, which he takes in one hand and extends it out to me saying,
“Piece for you mommy?”
He’s almost three, and there are moments when I’m sure he’s trying to send me to the madhouse.
He’s almost three, and there are moments when I’m sure that the rigors of toddlerhood are going to do us both in.
He’s almost three, and there isn’t a day that I don’t think he’s the most amazing thing in my life.
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