We celebrated Andrew’s second birthday with a bang by doing absolutely nothing: no cake, no dinner (we had some pre-made dish), no pictures, and no presents. I mean, we thought of all these things but with our extremely busy schedule this week, nothing came to fruition.
Yup, I’m expecting that Mother-of-the Year call any day now.
It is days like these that almost push regretful thoughts through about becoming a working mom. That is, until I remember just how much I love my job. I might come home wiped, but the kids get more of the best me than they ever did before–a fact that I’m not proud to admit.
I constantly read about celebrations other families have for their children’s first, second, and third birthdays (because those are the only 3 we’ve had so far) and feel a twinge of guilt. Except on those rare occasions when we celebrate their birthdays with family (I think Emily has received the bigger portion of these celebrations), our birthday celebrations generally consist of a cake, ice cream, and a few presents. Not a fancy cake, mind you, just something I’m hoping I haven’t burned.
I would like to say that we’ll do something special tonight, but I know that probably won’t happen. More than likely, we’ll have a small gathering of friends over on Saturday and celebrate then; unless I can get some shopping done before work.
Anyway, this has turned into a depressing post about how life is pretty tough now. I am really writing to poke fun at myself for this huge oversight.
In the end, though, there will be the weekend with more time. Andrew will remember this birthday purely through our thoughts and laughter over it and hopefully will not resent us forever.
On a happier note, there are few milestones Andrew has reached that remind me he has entered toddlerhood.
He likes to hit his sister just for kicks. No really, he does. He runs after her, laughing, to push/hit/or tackle her. Since he weighs more than she does, it isn’t that hard for him to do this. She cries, of course, giving him the reaction he wants.
He enjoys standing on tables of all varieties. As well as the edges of couches, counter tops, and anything else he can climb on.
He has a wicked grin. If it weren’t so cute, I’d probably be going insane. Instead, I pick him up, kiss his cheeks, and laugh.
He likes to empty the cupboards, fridge, and silverware drawer.
He has a giggle that will cheer up the most grumpy mommy/daddy.
He talks up a storm. We can understand about 3/4 of it. Most of his words revolve around trucks, the color blue, and bugs.
I hate saying this, but he really is all boy. As I mentioned, he is bigger than his older sister–at least weight wise. In length? Well, he has our short genes. He runs as if he is going to tackle someone (with his head forward) accompanied by the requisite grunts. Though he does have a love for dresses, tea parties, and dolls.
When I try to take a picture of him, he says “cheese” for a mini-second followed by “No!” and running away as fast as he can.
He brings me joy and drives me crazy, usually within minutes of each other. The perfect description of toddlerhood.