My Baby Is Two Today

Hard to believe our little guy is already two.

In the same way I mourned our dog leaving her puppiness behind, I'm just not ready for Judah to be a toddler yet.

Okay, so maybe I am ready for him to finally get past the diapers. And to grow out of his restaurant booth gymnastics. But some of what he's doing now is so darling, I just wish I could freeze time.

A couple of days ago, when Judah saw a picture of a birthday cake, he said out of the blue, "Ap-Bir-Day!" *looks adoringly at son* It was just so darn cute! I didn't think he'd remember what they were since the last party we went to, but he did, and just in time for his own birthday. Much to my delight, he even said it on cue! But of course, pull out the video camera to get footage, and he just stares blankly at it and won't say a word.

We had a houseful of guests over after church yesterday to celebrate with us. It was a lot of fun. Judah was thrilled with his new stuff. As was big brother. And, to be honest, so was dad.



I suppose every dad revisits a little of their own childhood when their son starts playing with the kinds of toys he remembered and enjoyed as a child.

For me, their toys hold little interest for me. Especially when I find matchbox cars inside my computer printer, or some soft plastic figurine melted to the inside of the dryer. Or when an electronic toy became a bath toy without my knowing about it, and the electronics began short-circuiting and making odd sounds from the toybox in the middle of the night a week later, waking me from a dead sleep at 2 am, my heart pounding.

Now I've got mad love for my boys, and would never trade them for the world, but I was just certain both times I was pregnant that I was going to have girls. Someone to teach how to french-braid hair, paint fingernails, sew doll clothes, decorate cakes and do other 'girly' things with down through the years. Like proms. And weddings.

Instead, God gave me boys. Who want to do boyish things like pick up bugs and examine them. And stop to check out the contents of every spider web. Or to put a black widow and praying mantis in a jar and see which one wins. And I'm forced to hold my squeamishness in, because daddy wants them to be good solid, brave boys, not scared of bugs and other creepy-crawlies. *shudders*

Frogs I was okay with. Even buying crickets for and feeding them to our frogs I could handle. But I draw the line at reptiles and rodents in the house. Even in cages. Because I've known of far too many people who had them escape into their homes, not to be found for days. Or ever.

So, as a mother of two sons, I have been forced to use my girlish skills to come up with suitable boyish alternatives. Like getting a set of barber clippers to cut hair with instead of braiding hair. Instead of sewing doll clothes, I am now begged to sew Jedi costumes from tee-shirts, and make costumes for school plays. Instead of the elaborate distinctly feminine cakes I always longed to do, I've done Star Wars and Pirate cakes.

Unfortunately, the inspiration simply did not strike for me this year. Even as I was frosting the two different sized layer cakes the night before Judah's party, I still didn't have any idea as to what sort of a theme to go with for the cake. However, upon looking through my cake decorating tackle box, I did have some yellow food color paste and a tube of black decorating gel, so having made two round layer cakes, one smaller than the other, I thought I'd just make the top one into a smiley face. Easy enough.

Until I went to draw the eyes and mouth on, and found that the decorator gel was too thin and drippy. Grrr. I gave up and went to bed. Call me crazy, but the frumpmama in me decided that fabulous just wasn't worth a trip to the grocery store at midnight for a new tube.

In the rush of Sunday morning, I didn't give it another thought, and it wasn't until about five minutes to the time of the party starting that I remembered I wasn't finished with the cake. With some last minute improvisation, this was what I came up with.



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Today I took Judah in for his scheduled 2 year wellness checkup. We had to wait over an hour to be seen, but thankfully our doctor had the foresight to install giant flatscreen TV's on the walls in the waiting room to play movies for the kiddos. Judah did a great job, cooperating with the doctor, and even laughing and giggling. His doctor is such a kind man, it's no wonder his office is always packed. He has such a good way with kids (and parents), that I walk out of there feeling like the best mom in the world.

During that long wait, I heard this kid around the corner near the play area whining and carrying on. Now, because my own son is usually a beast in public, I am pretty tolerant of such things. But this kid just wouldn't stop. For the entire hour we were all waiting to be seen. I kept thinking, somewhat annoyed, "Why don't those parents say anything to their kid?"

But when they were finally called to go in, I realized that the poor little kid that had been whining had a horrible skin condition that caused him to itch constantly. Fiercely. He had scratch marks and scarring all over his exposed skin, and was even itching through his clothing. It wasn't contagious, or I'm sure the rest of his family would have had it, but the poor little guy was miserable. Then I saw his little sister, who was about 2 or 3 and bald. As though she'd recently been through cancer treatments. I wondered if it was some congenital condition that was treated with chemo. My heart just broke for them.

I felt so convicted that I would sit there getting so annoyed with people, not having any idea what life in their shoes must be like. I was compelled to pray for that family as I watched them go into the office. Aside from his constant itchiness, the little boy was very friendly when distracted, like when the nurse was talking to him. He couldn't help that he was suffering from a chronic, miserable skin condition. The things I consider 'trials' with my kids pale in comparison to what that family must go through daily.