so fresh and so clean

This morning, as I was getting Amado dressed, we were discussing what he wanted to have for breakfast. He decided he wanted cold cereal.

So, the kind of cereal we have right now is that puffed corn one. For some reason, we started calling this cereal "puffy puffy". I know, its a dorky mom move, lets just get on with things.

So, he decided he wanted "puffy puffy con leche" by the time we had his pants on. I stood him up and started to get his shirt on, when he stopped me.


"No, mami...Puffy puffy, leche...tiro mi panza..no camisa,,,despues, camisa, mami".

Dude. He was telling me it made more sense to wait until to put his shirt on till after his cereal because he always spills some on his belly when he eats cold cereal. He was right. So wild.

I was in total disbelief that he communicated that so well. This guy is so awesome - it is so so cool to watch him put things together like that and then communicate them! And of course, its Amado so its about cleanliness.

sweet dreams

This may only be meaningful to those of you who know Amado, aka those of you who have heard him talk in, what we call, "monster voice". Its a voice he slips into several times an hour, to get a laugh, or just to change things up a bit. He makes his little voice all deep and then says things or sings, especially things that will sound funny in monster voice. One of his favorites is singing the mothers day song they taught him at school in monster voice. "Mamacita buena, Mamacita linda" is the part he knows. How sweet, right? Yeah, now replay it again in monster voice. Nice.

The other night, Amado talked in his sleep, in monster voice. I couldnt believe it. I am fast asleep - its just the two of us in bed together because we are in Chula Vista visiting my mom and dad - and all of a sudden I am woken up by monster voice.

"Mira, mami! Mira, mami!" (in monster voice)

I was like, "no way, is he really screwing around in the middle of the night?!" I whipped around towards him and he was passed out cold! I touched him to see if he was really pulling a fast one on me, and he was completely, totally, 100% asleep.

Oh man, that was a pretty good one. Weird little guy.

The So-Not-Terrible Twos

When people ask how old Amado is, and we answer that he's two, the response is a blend of sympathy and what seems like a shudder or recollection. "Oh, two is such a hard age! The Terrible Twos!" But its funny because though it seems like they are remembering their kid at two, it seems more like they are reiterating what we as a broader society feel about caring for (managing?) two year olds.

The terrible twos. I guess its because at 2, these little people are really coming into their own. Amado's two most repeated refrains these days are "mio hacer" (i'll do it) or "solo" (I can do it by myself). Of course there are hard moments when what we think is possible for him and what he thinks is possible for him are at odds (for example, he want to jump into the pool alone, as opposed into one of our arms. um, yeah right, kid.) But man, how amazing to watch this little person who sees himself as capable of anything. He is not too small, not too short, not too weak, not too young. He wakes up in the morning and he sees possibilities. He has will like you wouldn't believe. He is his own person. He may not want to go when its time to go, he may not want to stop playing when its time for a diaper change, he may have different plans that what we have on the agenda, but man, you really gotta respect that. And Im sure these other parents felt the same way about their kids when they had two year olds. But its funny, we are told "the two's" are terrible, so we call them terrible. The Terrible Twos - its a phrase everyone knowingly nods when they hear. "Oh yeah, the Terrible Twos". Yup.

I am reading a book called "The Emotional Life of the Toddler" and it talks about how toddlerhood is a constant pull between asserting independence and the need for a secure base. And its a constant tension for the kids and its a constant tension for the adults. And one place you can take it is frustration, "man, why wont he do what he is supposed to" but another place you can take it is to admire what it means for these little people to be defining themselves, and to always be that secure place that they can come home to, after venturing out to assert their independence.

This age is about asserting who he is. Testing him limits. Trying new things. Being who he is. Identifying himself as a real person, not just an appendage of Jason and me. He is working so hard these days, working hard at Being Amado. And that may be different that what we had planned for him, it may happen on a different timeline than we had our watch set to. But he is becoming himself. The wonderful, fantastic, magical Twos.

The first few times it happened, I didnt know how to respond.
"Two?" they said.
"Oh, god, two is so hard! The terrible twos! Watch out!"
I was like, "Um, what? Have you met my kid?"

But now I know to expect it.
"How old is he?"
"Two! Man,its so much fun!"
"Oh, um yeah!" they say, skeptical, but smiling.

And at night, before I climb in bed, I sit on the edge of it and look at him. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust, to see where he starts and ends and where the blanket is. I look at this little-big lovely warm soft baby-kid sleeping in his crib, rythmically breathing in-and-out, and I just want to hold him, bury my nose in his warm neck, wrap my arms around his little waist. Each night, I consider it. Can I move him into the bed without waking him? I know that I will wake up in two hours with his feet on my cheek and an hour after that with his one finger in my mouth and another in my nose. But I still consider it.

I decide no. Soon enough it will be 5am, and he will be standing up at the edge of his crib, calling for us gently, asking to be brought into bed with us for his last 2 hours of sleep. Its not just those few hours of precious kid-free sleep I am choosing, it is an attempt to also respect that he is in process of growing apart from me. It sounds so sad to say it that way, but its true. There are moments I yearn to turn back the clock, to start over, to grow him inside of me once again and relive, relove all those amazing moments. But I know that now my job is to allow him to be him. Toddlerhood is hard on the mamas, I think, because we are continually confronted with the fact that they are their own people. So when Im frustrated that he doesnt want to get his shirt on, or doesnt want to leave the park, or wants to bang my computer with his dumptruck, I gotta ask myself. Am I frustrated at him and what he is doing, or am I maybe a little sad that he is not a swaddled baby laying in my lap? Two years old. I guess we are both growing up a little bit at a time.

comedic timing

Amado has been picking up some English, and he seems to pull it out at the perfect moment for maximum comedic impact.

The recent highlights:

The other day, Amado was eating a fresa. He came up to me and said, "quitar, hojas, mami." I was doing like 14 other things at that time, so I admit I gave a half-hearted attempt. I pulled off the hojas but left in the stem. I handed it back to him. He looked at it and then looked at me. Then we walked over to my sister, and said, "nina, quitar, este". She pulled out the whole stem carefully, like she always does. He thanked her, then turned back to me, I guess figuring I might be offended by the request for a re-do from someone that wasn't me. He said, "sorry-bout-that, mami" then ran off, slurping on his fresa.

A few days later, I was trying to put Amado to bed (Jason got the night off from his regular job because it was his birthday). I am trying to encourage more independence in that process, trying to let him work it out on his own a bit. So, he was still awake, but I put him in his cuna and told him that I would sit in the chair and sing 2 times and after that, I was going to leave. I started to sing, and Amado, completely exhausted, laying face down in his cuna, started yelling "Help! Help!". Oh, man. It took everything I had to keep singing "Elene la Ballena" and not start cracking up. Seriously, I didn't even know he knew that word. And then he was exhausted, calling for someone to resuce him from his terrible fate of sleep.

And today, I think he called me "dude". It was almost 8, I had already given him like 3 warnings that it was almost time for bed. It was the moment of truth - I knew we had to do it now. So I laid hm down to put on his pijamas. He told me he wanted to play more with his Camion de Bomberos. I told him that he could play with it first thing in the morning. To which he responded, "Come on, dude".

stuttering

We are entering new territory over here. Most of you know I am kind of a worrier. So far, motherhood has been pretty smooth sailing - Ive kept the worrying pretty under control. Sure, I have the periodic panic moments about things big and small (like all of us, right? right?) , but for the most part, smooth sailing.

I have heard that growth and development milestones are a big deal for parents, but we've never had to worry about this stuff. He gained weight ontime, rolled ontime, crawled ontime, walked ontime, grew ontime, ate on time, talked ontime, etc etc etc.

In the last few days, Amado started stuttering. I ignored it for a day, then started googling on day two. Its apparently a typical two-year-old thing - their brains are working faster than their tounges can keep up and they stutter. Makes perfect sense. So why am I worrying about this?

Its amazing what your mind will do. The thoughts cycle through...oh my god, what if his friends at school make fun of him?...what if it doesnt stop?...what if he gets frustrated and he stops enjoying learning new words and talking and singing?

This is new territory. Im used to sitting back and marvelling at his talking and now Im worrying about it. So what Im trying to do is be conscious to appreciate whats happening in his brain - this little guy is learning two languages. He's vigilantly observing everyone and everything around him. He's trying out new sounds, new words, and new ideas. He is moving from three word sentences to putting out whole, long, complicated thoughts. (Today, he said "Uh, oh, nina. Mira. Hormigas. Abajo. Mesa. ") He is repeating things he hears and watching what happens (my dad taught him the batman theme song). He is singing songs to me in the morning to wake me up. He is trying to tell me stories, trying to convince me to hand over the scissors, telling me he is rodney yee when he does downward dog.

He's gonna work it out. And if he doesnt work it out soon, he will work it out later. And in the meantime, I gotta keep telling him, as much as I always have "wow, amado, tu hablas muy bein!"

Fashion Advice

The other day, we were getting ready to go out and play. We were both in our pajamas, and Amado wanted to go out RIGHT NOW. So, I was giving him the run-down of what we needed to do in order to get out the door. We had to get him dressed, we had to clean up his breakfast dishes, we had to get me dressed, we had to make me a cup of coffee, and then we could go out. He was a little put off by all the steps but went along with it.

He came into the room with me when it was time to get dressed. I was wearing a tank top and some red pajama bottoms - -you know the kind that are loose, with an elastic waist band, real thin material. No, they are not particularly cute. Yes, I got them off the bargain rack at Ross for $2.99.

Back to that morning. We go into the room to my dresser. I pull out some jeans and threw them on the bed. Amado pointed at them and said, "este, mejor". Then he pointed at my pants and said "este, sucio". This is his standard reason he cites for why you take anything off (many of you know, he has a real accute sensitivity on the sucio meter).

So I said to him, "no, no esta sucio. pero es mi pijamas".

Amado pointed at the jeans again and said "este mejor." Then, he pointed at my pajama pants and said "este muy grande".

Dude, I think he was telling me that I looked sloppy! That my pijama pants were too big and sloppy. I couldnt help it - I started cracking up. Which meant that he kept repeating it, with more animation each time. "Este no, mami. Este muy grande. Este mejor!"

Uh oh, Mami!

Amado is a fake tatoo afficionado. He pretty much always has 4, I usually have two (it HAS to be one on each arm, there is a method to his madness), and Jason usually has one (that's all he'll go for - bad sport).

For those of you who aren't pros at the process, you cut the tatoo from the sheet, put it on your arm face down, and then wet the back. Then, you count to 30 (or 3 sets of 10, as Amado does, he can't count past 10 yet) and then you take off the paper. Print this out. You might need it some day.

So, each time we do a tattoo, we have a conversation/power struggle (depending on the moment) over Amado wanting to operate the scissors. I always explain that they are very sharp, its peligroso, blah blah blah. So, responsible and detail-oriented mom that I am, I must have left the scissors on the couch yesterday from the last tattoo round.

This morning, I was making coffee (like usual) and I hear Amado in the living room.
"Uh oh, Mami! Este no!" he yells.
Lets be honest. I didn't go running. I mean, empassioned "uh-ohs" from Amado are a dime a dozen around here. A crayon under the couch? "Uh oh, Mami!" His sock is crooked? "Uh oh, Mami!" He has a raisin stucck to his arm? "Uh oh, Mami!" You get the picture.

So, I continued making my coffee. Then I turn in time to see Amado, running towards me, full speed ahead with these scissors in his hand! Crap. Isn't that the one really bad thing you can allow a child to do while under your care? Run with scissors? There's jokes about that. Crap. If I had my coffee already this wouldnt have happened. Damn, the coffee addiction!

"Amado!" I yelled. "Por favor, mijo!" I said, grabbbing them from his little but not-to-be-reckoned-with grip.
He gave me a look like I was insane.

And then he gently patted me on the hand and said, "Este no, mami. Tijeras, no. Sofa. Peligroso."