21.

wait, do i have that right? 21 (counting in head: may, june, july, august, september, october, november, december, january, holy cow, what happened to the last six months? i feel like i'm still looking for a dress to wear to nicole's wedding -- maybe that's because i'm now looking for a dress to wear to amy's wedding? -- but really, my god, time, you're fooling with me!) yes! TWENTY ONE MONTHS.

oh little arlo, in just a few short weeks, i will be able to toss aside this cumbersome month counting. by summer, i will be able to, all footloose and fancy free, dash off, "he's two." or, "he's two and a half" or, eventually (dun dun dun), "he'll be three soon!" but...i suppose i'm getting ahead of myself. for now, you are twenty one months old. much more than halfway to two, but not so close that i feel comfortable saying that you're almost two. and thus, with the month counting. sometimes, i toss caution to the wind and say, "he'll be two in april. at the end. of april. then, he'll be two." but really, i think saying, "he's 21 months," makes me sound less stupid. and of all the goals i've ever made, this year, last, any year: trying to sound less stupid is a really good one, and one that i should work a little harder to adhere to.

so, you. 21 months. have i told you lately, how much you look like a big boy? 
because, god...

also, words! so many words! what i can think of right now:
"hum" (home).
"dir dawg" (dirty dog. don't ask, we have no idea.)
"cri cheez" (cream cheese).
"melmo" (elmo).
"shuz" and "sock"
"ahside" (outside).
"apple" or "ah-RAH!" (arlo).
"AAAHHHnnn" (on).
"ufff" (off).
"duhsees" (daisy, the chihuahua).
"buut" (book).
"BUTT" (butt).
"AHmal" (oatmeal)

you still say "more" with your hands. and instead of saying please, you do  a little japanese bow. you also have taken to answer yes or no questions with "mmhm," except you rarely say the first syllable, preferring to just say "hmmmm?" which ends up sounding more like you're hard of hearing, rather than that you are in agreement. you also, and lord knows where you picked this up, seem to talk in a bit of a french accent.  i am "maMA."  andy is "daDA." Three singing pigs say "la LA LA"

we had a few steps back in the sleeping department last week, but that seems to have remedied itself (very afraid, now that i just typed that out loud). i think your last molars are coming in. holy cow, will i go marching through the streets when this whole teething thing is over (at least until they start to fall out....).

you are getting to be super super independent. and you like to be naked a lot. you also like to get into bed -- anyone's bed; yours, ours, ava's, nolan's...if there's a bed, with covers and a pillow, you're thrilled. you also like shoes.

after a very hectic end to 2011, 2012 has been a lot of fun. we're going to a new toddler play group with all of our sanctuary mama and baby friends, we went to the art show and looked at all kinds of brightly colored things and/or naked people, we've had a ton of playdates and found some new parks, and we almost made it through half of your great-great aunt phyllis' surprise 80th birthday. i'm having a ball keeping up with you.

you, mon frere, are the coolest.

xo.

dear arlo,
this last tuesday marked your 20 month birthday (oh, the days, how they fly.). we didn't do anything special, the park, i think. tuesday culminated the end of a busy busy busy set of days, what with christmas; what with some pretty major house repairs, that often sent us fleeing into the morning, refugees in our pjs; what with a trip to pasadena to visit with our friends and see some fenced in snow at the kidspace museum. so we took it easy on tuesday. you watched some sesame street and brought all the pillows and blankets on to the sofa with you.

 things are changing around here a little bit, as i have turned the neighborhood starbucks into my office, and am planning to be away a lot more than you and i are used to. come four o'clock, you're pretty eager to have me home, but you have been enjoying adventures with your grandmas, and you have a new tricycle upon which to bide your time (thank you grandpa larry and grandma debbie!) and so, so, so many new toys. still, you seem to be most happy running from room to room, gathering things, and hiding them in daddy and my bed. this week alone, we have found rocks, crayons, two little board books, and a plastic gorilla.

yup. good night gorilla, indeed.

hey little boy, bugs, buddy, bugsy siegal, arlo j, dr. j:
i love you.

eighteen months.

oh dear.

not quite sure how this happened, but there you are. we've managed to keep you alive for a year and a half. a year and a half. eighteen months. today.

jokes, platitudes, and hyperbole aside, i will say: you, mr. arlo j., are, hands down, the best thing in my life so far. i knew i would love you, of course i would, but i honestly had no idea just how much. i said this to you, just after your bath the other day, as you were helping me turn off the light. i'm not sure what kind of slapdash words i used, but the gist was the same. your dad was in the living room, waiting for us so he could read you some bedtime stories. he must have heard us and, from the living room, concurred out loud.

you are great. and you do everything greatly. and i am so glad that you're here.

the requisite list:
you hug, so much, all the time. often, i have to stand there on the street with you, right next to the car, because you're just not through hugging me to get into the car seat. you will be, in time, but not right now. so i stand there, and you hug, and hug and hug. eventually, you let go, and into your car seat you go, no complaints. and yes, still with the trees.

you still don't say much, but you've got, "bad dog!" down.

you are an adventurer. a druid, as shanna said.  you speak the language of the wilderness. outside, you need no toys, no shovel, no ball. you are content with meandering, with collecting, with finding and dragging branches three times your size.

you are brave, and resilient, and have a compassion and sensitivity that belies your age.

you also love to go out to dinner, especially if there are balloons.

i learn so much from you, every day. thank you for choosing us.
xo,
mama

sixteen months

You, at Santa Monica Beach, last Wednesday.

It really, really feels like we just did this, that 15 months was just a day or two ago. I credit our big adventure to the Pacific Northwest (which went both well and not well at times. Frankly, it went fine. You had two or three little meltdowns, which is just so unlike you, that they threw me into thinking that the world was ending. It wasn't. You were just way tired and too too sickmof being in the car. I get that way, too). Anyway, time seems to fly when you're not sleeping in your own bed.

We had a super fun visit with your Auntie Amy and Dale. We explored Dayton, WA (I think you know every inch of the courthouse lawn), and Walla Walla and Pendleton, OR. You whined through many an antique store and pointed out EVERY SINGLE DOG we saw. Ever. You loved Amy's mom's backyard, and the park in Walla Walla, but were not so crazy about the pool in Dayton. Dale taught you how to "gobble" at the wild turkeys that roam through town (not joking). You gobble at least once a day now.

I got to spend a lot of time with Amy doing not much, which is what Amy and I are good at doing. Chatting while drinking coffee. It's like art threat we do it.


Then we hauled halfway across the state to Troutdale for your Auntie No-No's wedding. If Amy and I can make drinking coffee into art, then Nicole and Dylan do the same for getting married. No one gets married better. Period. A summer camp, on the river? With a tipi photo booth and lawn sports? Heaven.

You marched into that river like a native Oregonian, with a courage unmatched by anyone on the shore. Until you were as deep as your belly button, at which point you paused long enough to realize how cold the water was, and started shaking your head no.

Other things:
You have all of a sudden recognized trucks, and think they are the awesomest. You grunt out "ruh!" every time you see a truck, a big car, a bus, or best of all, my friend Ian in his wheelchair.
You also love your toy cars and trucks, which had previously been ignored.
You are so amazingly outgoing. Far more than your dad or I am. When you see someone you know, especially if they are a little, like you, you march toward them waving your hand, or kick your ball their way, or scream.
You sleep like a starfish these days. Super cute, unless you're sharing a twin sized bunk bed.

You are the best. And we love you to pieces.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

fifteen months.

Dear Arlo, 

The summer's been busy so far, and will only get more so in the weeks to come...

You've done all kinds of new things, including riding the carousel at Santa Monica Pier, going to concerts at The Grove and The Getty, and -- hold on to your horses -- sleeping through the night. But I think the big excitement is really yet to come: next Sunday, you and I will get on an airplane and fly to Washington.  

We will visit with your Auntie Amy for a few days before your dad flies up to meet us, and then we three will road trip to Portland to go/camp at your Auntie Nicole's wedding. Then back to Washington, and then home. Two airplanes. Two states. At not yet 18 months, you will have the entire west coast covered. I was 23 before I did that.

In the meantime, I'm a basketcase (or, a flurry of over-organization, really, its all in how you look at it) making lists and stacks and buying surprise toys and having gear shipped ahead of time and mentally practicing navigating LAX on a Sunday afternoon with a toddler, carry-ons and a carseat. By myself.

Also: you move so so fast these days, and I've noticed a theme running through my recent photos of you: 

 

Wakey Wakey

Ok, I get it.

#2 on the list of "Things I Don't Like, By Arlo" must be sleeping. You have never been much of a sleeper, and I have always been fine with getting up once or twice in the wee hours to convince you back to the land of nod, but holy shut-eye, Batman! FIVE times? In ONE night? A night that you didn't even go to sleep until almost 10pm, and you were up at 6am? That's asking a lot of me, Bub, just saying...

By the way, for those keeping track, #1 on the list of "Things I Don't Like, By Arlo" is still socks, standing firm for 10 months now. Strangely, shoes are just fine...



- Used my iPhone, apologies for lackadaisical spelling and/or grammar.

Location:Home

11 months.

yup, thanks for noticing. i skipped 10. february was...lets just say difficult. as you'll make note of later in your life, february is also mommy's birthday. and its a pretty short month. and you stopped sleeping. and your grandmother moved again. and your great grandmother had a health scare. so...february update = lost to the ether. i will apologize profusely, should you grow up and decide to hold it against me.

so no ten month update. you still seem to be a pretty happy kid:

 

on the beach in morro bay.

to commemorate the end of february, we took a road trip. a three day jaunt that included one night in bakersfield, one night at costanoa just north of santa cruz (see this post), then morro bay. it was great, except for the rain.

 

in my iphoto file, this is called "raincation"

we met up with nicole and dylan and holden for a brief 20 hours or so at costanoa, and you did a good job of destroying holden's game of giant chess with dylan

and sleeping through a great trek to the beach through sand dunes that holden (obviously having forgiven you for capturing her rook) navigated like a true portuguese navigator (i don't know if holden is portuguese. but i do know that she navigated those dunes like a pro, including standing on bluffs and looking out into the sunset with her hand shielding her eyes. sadly, i didn't get a photo of this). you made a friend in holden, and dylan even said you're getting cuter. plus they got you some pretty sweet presents. yay.

so other than the raincation, your eleventh month has been pretty jam packed. you still feed your food to the dog, much to my dismay. you have also stopped eating some of the food you used to love, so the dog is getting pretty fat. however, i can always bring you around with some toast, or your puffs (especially the green ones).

you have celebrated first birthdays with two of your buddies thus far, and have another birthday party scheduled this weekend. i can't spend too much time thinking about your birthday (at the end of this month -- holy cow!), without crying. i don't know how i'm going to make it through the next 29 days, but i'm pretty sure i felt the same way this time last year. if i can make it through the last 29 days of what was supposed to be the last 22 days of pregnancy, i'm pretty sure i can get to the end of this april.

you have started going to music classes (here) and its safe to say its the highlight of your week. even when you're tired, or hungry, or cranky or teething, you manage to pull it all together for music class. 

you talk and laugh and can motor yourself around on your feet, as long as you're holding on to something. oh, and you peed on your dad the other day.  you hadn't done it in a while, and i enjoyed it immensely.

in short, i enjoy you. and you, you seem to enjoy everything. and its just so contagious.

so thank you. and happy eleven months, little boy. you are the best.