Favorites

As Kendan gets older he is beginning to understand what "favorite" means. He has a favorite color, cereal, and friend. His favorite super hero and show change daily depending on which shirt is clean and which show's icon appears first on DVR. Mom and Dad rotate as favorite depending on who just gave him candy! This changing of what tops his list is not unlike any other child, or person in general. My favorite things change frequently as well. Whatever is currently making my life easier or more enjoyable is often described as "the BEST" while I rave about it to a friend or lick the remnants of it off of my fingers. As for the boys, their preferences are constantly on my mind. "Oh, the green cereal bowl is clean! Kendan will be so happy!" or "I can endure an episode of Mickey since Damien loves it so much..." But, actually listing what I prefer took some thought. My immediate reaction was to catalog foods we eat regularly *seems about right*... Had to start over (although many foods still make the cut). I have decided to comprise two lists: my favorite things as a mom and my favorite things as a person, woman, consumer, human, etc. All of these favorites could change tomorrow; some might even change before I'm done writing this post.... But, here it goes.

My Favorite Things as a Mom:

1). Peek-a-Boo Owl. Watch.

http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?v=NffqnjwP0w8&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DNffqnjwP0w8

Hilarious! Kendan and I were watching Disney Jr. one day and this video short came on between Clorox and Pampers commercials. We watched silently for a few seconds and then looked at each other and busted out laughing! Not only is it seriously cute (and bordering on stoner humor, whatever) but, Kendan thought it was funny. We're getting to an age where he gets it. I hear him chuckle at shows while I am making dinner or he'll recall funny things in conversations. It makes every day more fun. Any time my boys need a pick-me-up, I just play this Peek-a-Boo Owl and we're all giggling in no time.

2). Organic Soy/Coconut Yogurt. My children have a dairy allergy. I am not complaining because there are way worse lots in life; but, sometimes it can pose difficulties in the nutrition department. Not to mention, Kendan's two year boycott of all meat products (except chicken nuggets, *shudder*) made protein difficult to come by at times. I often thought, "I wish I could give him yogurt" seeing my friends supplement their kids' diets with the fun, fruity flavors of a protein and probiotic-filled snack. I don't know what took me so long to discover non-dairy yogurt! Soy (or coconut) yogurt is now a staple in our house. I can add a tablespoon of it to Damien's cut up waffle or hand Kendan a whole container; he'll eat until his heart's content. Loves it.

3). Soy nut butter. In addition to a dairy allergy, my children have a peanut allergy. Bubble boys much? When in search of protein sources everybody's initial suggestion is peanut butter. Nope! There are almond and cashew butters, etc. But, I need the boys' peanut butter to look like my peanut butter. Kendan will not accept that he is also having an english muffin with peanut butter if it doesn't look just like Mommy's! So, the nuttier, oilier, darker-colored versions of nut butters wouldn't work. Then I found soy nut butter. Jack pot! Looks just like mine. Spreads just like mine. And now the boys can eat PB&J like "normal" kids. Score!

4). Pat the Bunny. Weeks before Damien's first birthday I had a conversation with his Aunt Caili about gift ideas. She asked, "Do you have the book Pat the Bunny?" No... "Oh, it's a classic!" Two weeks later it was wrapped and in front of my birthday boy. Best baby book ever! To say it is Damien's favorite book would be an understatement. If it is within his line of sight he will throw whatever he is holding to the ground and reach for/whine for Pat the Bunny until he gets it. It was also the first book that he actually paid attention to and participated in the actions it calls for. "Pat the bunny," "feel Daddy's scratchy face", "read Judy's book"... Whatever the book demands, Damien obliges. It's adorable! We love that book. 

5). Anything Super hero. DUH. Anybody who reads my blog, follows me on Instagram, or has met Kendan knows he is obsessed with super heroes. The super hero affect in our house isn't just cute shirts with attached capes and masks worn to every public place. Super heroes save us every day (as their definition implies). If I need Kendan to do me a favor, I call it a "rescue", and it's done immediately. Need to get him to eat his vegetables? Well, Batman eats his green beans every day! Every store has super hero paraphernalia so it is never hard to find a bribery tool *proud Mom moment*. And it doesn't even have to be a toy. Kendan has gladly done whatever he needed to do just to hold an Avengers napkin! It's awesome. Thank you, DC and Marvel. 

6). Target's Dollar Section. Every mom who shops at Target knows the dollar section is where it's at; and every mom I know shops at Target. From snacks to books I can always find the perfect stocking stuffers, small gift additions, or just something to entertain the boys while we shop! They often sell coloring book/crayon/sticker packs featuring very popular characters from kids' shows. I pick one up in each character almost every chance I can. Those packs have helped us survive the DMV, restaurants, oil changes, doctors' appointments, you name it. The best part about the dollar section is I can buy my children whatever they want and the most it will cost me is $3; unlike in the toy aisle where the cheapest toy Kendan points to is at least $8. Money saver. 

My Favorite things as Me:

1). LOFT Jeans. I hate buying jeans. Pants in general, really. I am "pear-shaped" and have to buy bottoms two sizes bigger in the waist to fit my rear and thighs. It doesn't help that many of the super skinny, low-rise styles are not flattering on my body type and create an unnecessary "muffin top". I often find myself near tears because all stores size pants differently. How can I be a size 4 at one place and a size 10 at the next? It's frustrating. But! I finally found them. The jeans that actually fit and feel great! LOFT's Curvy Straight Leg jeans. They are a better style for my frame and the fact that I am an almost 30 year old, mother of two. Perfect!

2). XM Radio. I should start by explaining that we do not actually have a subscription to XM radio. But, they often do free trials, the most recent of which lasted over two months! Prior to having my children, music was very important to me. XM reminds me of my love for music. It also seems as if new music is played sooner on XM stations, and certainly more frequently. There are so many bands that I didn't know existed that I now cannot wait to hear (and blare) during my daily errands. We may have to buy the service...

3). Yoga. I love yoga for so many reasons. I first started going for exercise. I do much better with little, or no, impact exercise and yoga fits that bill perfectly! But, with yoga, I have gained so much more than a way to get fit. Yoga clears my mind. For one to two hours per class the only thing I am thinking about is breathing. It's so freeing. Yoga also steadies me. I am typically a frantic, worried, stressed out person. Yoga has taught me to just be. Be calm. Be still. It has helped me with restraint and patience. And my body feels better than it ever did with high-impact exercise. I now recognize how important it is to be strong, lean, and supple. I hear about gym classes called "body attack" or something equally as threatening and think to myself, "why would you want to attack your body?!" I prefer to heal and strengthen my body through yoga.

4). Kale Chips. I'm addicted. I make a pan a day, sometimes two pans. I have also started to branch out from my typical salt and pepper seasoning to Salt and Vinegar and BBQ. Sound delicious? Anyone? I had heard so many people talk about kale chips and thought they were insane. Then I tried them. Whoa. They have replaced regular chips for me. Something that I was a full-blown addict for and had to do a 30 Day, No Chip Challenge to stop eating! Now, I eat kale chips with my sandwich at lunch or cook some up when I have a craving during nap time. The best part? Kendan loves them too! Also, side note, I am not a health freak. If I were writing this post two months ago the number one favorite thing on my list would be Blue Bell ice cream! Blue Bell is still a MUST, just not daily. Try out kale chips if you haven't!

5). Bloody Mary's. I'm drinking one as I type this *whoops*. It's a Sunday favorite. .... I can't help it if Saturday is also "Sunday" in our house! We've perfected the recipe and all the garnishes that decorate the glass. It is also the only alcoholic beverage I feel comfortable drinking before noon. And, let's be honest, some days (with kids) you want to drink before lunch! If you haven't made Bloody Mary's a regular thing then, please, do! Play around with ingredient and garnish ideas. You cannot go wrong!

 

6). Target Dollar Section. ...... making its second appearance in one blog post! Target is my sanctuary. If I am ever not sure what to do for the day, we go to Target. Feeling cooped up and just want to burn some time before dinner? Target. But, specifically, the dollar section makes the list again because I always find the best deals! I usually love their kitchen gadgets. I recently purchased rubber spatulas, 2 for $1. And they were cute to boot with patterns, colors, and sayings on the handles (in typical Target fashion). I am also now the proud owner of about ten fruit and vegetable bags. I didn't even know I needed them and now I don't know how I lived without! They are just mesh, drawstring bags for produce and I am hooked. Hope they're still in the dollar spot so you can pick one up.... for only a buck!

Well, there you have it, my current list of favorites. As our children grow up and all of our tastes change this list will also change. Favorite foods and pastimes will be replaced faster than Kendan can change out of a Batman shirt and into a Super Man one. But, it will be nice to be able to go back and read this post. A reminder of what our lives were like today, the things we enjoyed, watched, ate. What made us laugh. What made us happy. What made us "us". All of the items listed above are approved by our family and recommended for yours. Enjoy!

Perfect

"He's so happy all the time!" "You're so lucky." "This is perfect!" These are actual comments posted on some of my Instagram pictures. I often look through my own feed and admire the pictures of our children and think, "If I weren't me, I would want my life". Well, that's good! I am so lucky to have this family. However, I know the occasional snapshots from my life do not tell the whole story. They do not show the twelve pictures of a blurry, crying baby before the perfectly posed and filtered photo appears on Instagram. Just behind my child doing something hilarious are piles and piles of unfolded laundry and days worth of messes just out of camera view. I'm afraid that I am guilty of portraying perfection. Of course I don't post the picture of brother hitting brother or my two-day unwashed hair. Who would? But, that's the truth!

I learned quickly after having Kendan the dangers in the portrayal of perfection. I would look around at my peers and think, "How does she do it all?" "Her kids are always dressed flawlessly!" "Their house is beautiful and spotless." I found myself comparing my life to everyone else's, and became very unhappy. It took me too long, a lot of self pity, and so much stress to realize that something's gotta give. That woman who finds all the time in the world to work out and look gorgeous? Her house is a mess (maybe she spot cleans before you come over). The mom who feeds her kids nothing but organic, whole foods and bakes and cooks as if her name was Betty Crocker? She probably hasn't worked out in months and feels fat. The latest kid's birthday party you attended that was plucked directly from Pinterest? The poor mom who planned it didn't sleep for a week prior. And the woman whose house is always clean and tidy when you cannot seem to keep the dishes out of the sink? She hasn't sat down and enjoyed an hour of doing nothing in forever. They're all on the verge of a breakdown. I know. Because, at one point or another, I have been all of those moms. Never all at once. I repeat, never all at once. Something's gotta give. But, I post a picture of us taking a walk on a beautiful day, the details of an adorable party, or a smiling baby being held by an impeccably coiffed mom! Not all the mess, sweat, and tears (mostly tears) that come with the day to day. The danger in all of this is how it makes others feel. When just the ideal moments of someone's life are revealed it breeds insecurity in the people who are witnessing it. They're not organized enough. They're not health conscious enough. They're not as good at parenting, or being a spouse, or a human in general. We're all doing it. We are all feeling not good enough but continue to show only the wonderful parts of our life to the world.

I have read many blogs and articles related to this subject. Some even written by friends of mine (here). They have all been eye opening and helpful in my search to come to terms with feeling "less than." A friend recently posted this article on her Facebook page. And I think it's really well-written. It does an amazing job of explaining the dangers in portraying the perfect life in any social forum. It also helped make sense of why I might feel down after seeing the happy images of friends and loved ones.

Another great point illustrated in the article is that we cannot create a community in short comments online. It's not a dialogue that lends itself to feeling connected. Recently, my phone would not allow me to comment on my friends' blogs. So, I resorted to emailing them when I had something to say. I found myself writing longer, more personal messages and, better yet, getting a reply that turned into actual conversations. So much more fulfilling and enlightening than a brief note at the bottom of a blog post that I am not sure they will ever notice. It made me feel more connected to them and, I'm sure, them to me. It created a more honest and sincere moment, even with people I hadn't spoken to in a while. That's the key, honesty.

I'm not saying to stop the perfect posts. I love all of the pictures of my friends' children, in quirky ensembles, running through fields of spring flowers. The challenge is to appreciate the photo and not think, "I should have taken the boys outside today. I'm such a bum!" It's a process, to be less self-deprecating in general, let alone when you're looking at a highlight in another person's life. To help in this quest to stop the comparisons of our seemingly perfect lives, I am going to start #truthfultuesday on Instagram. I'm not expecting it to turn into a huge trending topic (Ha! Ya right). But, even if only two people I know participate, it could help to make us feel better. I might post a picture of the tantrum I get when I have to say "No!" You may see a picture of my unmade bed or of my kids eating hot dogs for dinner. Honestly, the possibilities are endless. Because again, "honesty." If I'm being honest there's enough material in our daily mundaneness to make you all feel better, if you need that sort of thing. *You're welcome* So, hopefully, you'll join me. Maybe I'll get a glimpse into your ugly truths so that I realize I'm not the only one struggling to stay above water. And there will be plenty on my feed for you to take comfort in as well, coming soon!

True Life: We wasted a beautiful Saturday indoors and finally took our kids to the park, in the their pajamas, at 5pm for 30 minutes. Seen here struggling to share the  tube. 

Complaints

I don't even really want to put this out into the universe. Complaining does absolutely nothing to help any situation. Sure, it might make me feel better in the moment to get it off my mind. Venting to someone willing to listen usually immediately cures most things I ever feel the need to complain about. But, in general, re-hashing a situation that infuriated me does not typically resolve much. It doesn't go back in time and undo the moment. It doesn't exact any form of revenge on the person who put me in a foul mood. Yet, I complain. Some times more than others. And not nearly as much as my past self did. I think I have realized, as I've gotten older, that it isn't really worth my time. But, there are just some things that will always drive me crazy, make me want to scream, and make me, well... complain.

Here are a few:

1). Unpleasant public service employees. It absolutely never fails. If I have to go to the post office or, Lord help me, the DMV I know I will be dealing with, potentially, the crabbiest person alive. Maybe it is because they are stuck waiting on people who see their place of employment only as an inconvenient stop on a long list of errands. Maybe it's because their job location is typically run-down, under-staffed, and kept too warm in the summer/cold in the winter. Whatever their problem is, I am always hard pressed to find a friendly, helpful employee at the DMV or post office. I love being told to move to the side if my USPS form isn't 100% filled out when I reach the counter. "But, I only have one more box to complete..." Nope, step aside. Ok, thanks a lot. I am sure my two children will willingly stand still while I wait for you to finish helping the elderly lady who has nine parcels to ship. And it is just awesome when I am told that the five forms of identification I brought with me to the DMV are not enough. And that I must go back home and return, once again, with two children in tow. Upon my return, I am helped by a different employee who reassures me that what I originally had with me was, in fact, all I needed. I just cannot handle it sometimes. Those places are the pits.

2). People who take the last double cart when they only have one child. Believe it or not, this has happened to me on more than one occasion. I get it, your kid wants to sit in the higher raised, forward-facing, harness seats on the Target double cart. My kids do too. I can't go to any store without hearing a barrage of requests for the biggest cart they have. But, here's the catch... I need that cart! I have two kids with me. That's double the amount of kids than the lady has who just plopped her overly primped princess in the last double cart in the store. We walked in at the same time. She sees me barely making it through the door with two kids in my arms. I know she hears my toddler hollering for that cart, everyone in a ten mile radius can hear him. I even loudly comment that, "Yes, we will definitely try to get the double cart because we cannot fit in a regular one." But, yeah, you go ahead, lady. I'll just stick my baby in the front of this regular cart and my toddler in the basket and only buy what groceries I can fit under the cart and in my hands. Seriously?! I've covered Kendan in groceries, while he whined through the whole store because he couldn't move, and then went home with crushed bread after he kneeled into it, all because someone with only one child felt they needed the double cart. More than once! And, believe me, if someone with three kids came in at the same time as me I would forfeit the larger cart to them because they would need it more than I do. It's an unwritten rule of courtesy, people.

Sometimes we're not even happy in the double cart. You should see the scowl in the small cart!

3). A woman by herself using the large handicapped stall in the restroom. Those big handicapped stalls are amazing. Well, "mom stalls," really, because I've never actually seen a handicapped person coming out of one. They are large enough to fit a stroller comfortably, and have the diaper station so I can change my baby while my toddler goes potty. It's perfect! Except for when it's occupied. If it is being used by another mother who did not want to cram into the single stall with her rambunctious child, then great. By all means, use it. I don't have to wait until the occupant leaves to know that it is another mother with her hands full. I can tell by her incessant, "No!," and "Don't touch that!" My problem is when the person who felt the need to use the handicapped stall is one woman (teenager, middle-aged, elderly... they're all culprits), by herself. I have a choice when I know that stall is occupied. If my baby doesn't need a diaper change then I can attempt to squeeze us all into the smaller bathroom. Stroller blocking the hallway of doors, bag falling forward and hitting me in the face when I pick up my toddler to put him on the toilet. No where for him to go (but infinite things for him to touch!) if I have to sit down to go myself. Who am I kidding? I can't shut the door to use the restroom because my infant is outside the stall in the stroller! So, if my potty-trained little one can hold it for a bit, or if I do need to change a horrendous diaper, then we wait. And we wait. And my kids become impatient. So do I. What is she doing in there? Her makeup?! I try to reason with myself. Maybe all the other stalls were occupied when she got in here and she had to take the handicapped stall. But, there are three other stalls and I haven't seen any other traffic through the restroom on our way in or in the last few minutes we've been standing here. I even think that maybe this will be the first time I've ever seen an actual handicapped person leave this stall! Obviously, that'd be understandable. My kids snap me out of my thoughts. I tell Kendan, loudly because I'm annoyed now, "I know you have to go potty but we have to wait for the big stall so we can all fit and so I can change brother." This better be a handicapped person... as my baby flails almost out of my arms and my toddler begins to dance around holding himself. The toilet flushes, FINALLY! Out walks a very capable woman by herself. No crutches. No wheelchair. No kids. Something about that scenario makes my blood boil! Maybe because I encounter it almost every time we go out. I hope I wasn't that person before I had children. Something tells me I was and now karma is punishing the shit out of me.

4). People parking too closely to my mom car. Let me remove any mystery shrouding the purpose of my vehicle. It has a family sticker in the rear, two car seats in the back, slightly tinted sun protectors on the back windows, and (if you look close enough) I am sure you could see graham crackers on every seat and crushed into the carpet. It is parked in a grocery store parking lot as close to a cart return as it can be. Its sole purpose is to tote children and groceries around. It is a mom car. What does this mean to you? Don't park your F100,000 tank truck next to me so close that I cannot even open the doors! I have to fit human beings, sometimes even a carrier, in those side doors that you have now rendered useless. I do not have the skills to balance a door open before the designated spot at which it stands open on its own, while using both hands to buckle my kid in. The only thing I can do is gently open my door and rest it against your car. It's that or it swings on its own and leaves a ding. And the only reason I am going that far is to prevent damage to my car. Your vehicle deserves the ding. But, thank you, for pulling your side view mirrors in. Phew! What a big help. Um, no. All that does is tell me that you knew your dumb ass truck was parked too close to my vehicle and you left it that way. Ugh. Just.... .... ugh.

These are just a few things that bother me regularly. The top four situations that will definitely get me complaining. Yes, there are days where none of those scenarios occur and I'm left with a handful of random, small things to complain about or, *gasp*, nothing to complain about. And, believe me, I am aware of the insignificance of the above list. If I could attach hashtags to this post it would probably read #SAHMproblems #getoverit #ineedalife. I realize that if this is the majority of my complaints in life then I have it pretty good. But, I just needed to get it all off my chest. I feel better already!

Three

For several weeks before Kendan's third birthday I found myself in a panic. I was having trouble singling out distinct memories from when he was a baby. A small, new baby. My thoughts would immediately go to moments we had captured with pictures. Was I actually remembering that moment or did I use the picture of that moment to fill in what I thought I remembered? Even just typing that out I feel the labored breathing of panic coming back. The stress of not being sure if I actually remember my baby. The guilt that nearly kills me when admitting that. I close my eyes and picture myself rocking Kendan as an infant, look down at his face, and see.... Damien? Oh no! Are my more recent experiences with a newer newborn replacing my memories of Kendan? Again, intense panic ensues. Most things from about 20 months on are still relatively fresh for me. But, only a short three years following his birth, my very first months with the one person who completely changed my life are beginning to become cloudy. I am, thankfully, filling up on new memories everyday. New stories of the amazing things he says and does, the games he plays, the clothes he chooses to wear... But, then I begin to worry that these memories will soon fade as well. One day, God willing, he will be 8, 15, .... an adult. All of the changes and the new person he will become will fill my heart. Where does that leave today's memories?

I couldn't shake the feeling. The feeling like I did something wrong. That maybe I wasn't properly present in the moment. That this is my fault for forgetting. And that, one day, I'd forget Damien too. Again, as I type this, I am uncomfortable. It's a genuine fear. Something I have discussed with many people, has kept me up at night, and something I even dedicated many yoga classes to letting go of. I've come to the conclusion that it's going to be ok. My children fill my heart up so much that I honestly do not think I could hold one more memory, feeling, day, laugh, cuddle, tear.... or I would burst. I will take these new experiences with complete gratitude because I have the opportunity to even make them.

So, for myself, I have spent a lot of time remembering. I want to feel what it felt like to hold Kendan when he was only hours old. I want to go back. A few days before his birthday, Kendan woke up from nap a little cranky. I scooted him over in his toddler-sized bed so that I could cuddle him for a little while (as I often do), giving him the chance to fully wake up. I stared at his hair, his eyelashes, his hands. I watched as he sucked his thumb intermittently between falling in and out of sleep. Trying to memorize him at three years old. And when he was ready to get out of bed I held him and began to list memories, specific ones, I had of him as a baby. It started to pour out. I began describing things with details I thought I had forgotten. More and more excited as I realized there was still plenty that I remembered. I tried not to cry, or scare my sweet baby boy, as it all came flooding back to me and I became more and more enthusiastic! And then I just stopped. I felt satisfied that I had, in fact, not completely replaced his newborn memories. Gave him a hug and told him, "Mommy loves you so much". I have let it go. If I spend too much time worrying about what I missed, I am going to miss a whole lot more going forward. I am blessed with the memories I have. I will always rely on pictures to remind me, whether the memory is genuine or suggested, I don't care. I love to hear other people's stories about my children, let them help me remember. And, occasionally, I am sure an old memory will reappear.

Dear Kendan,

You have only been in my life for three years; but, I cannot imagine any kind of life without you in it. You have completely made mine worth living. It's amazing to think that I had 26 years before you were born but that the last three years have more of what I'll remember than any year before them. There are too many memories of you to ever list in their entirety. But, here are a few I cherish.

I remember waking up in the hospital in the middle of the night. You were bundled up and on your side, facing me, eyes wide open. Like you were staring at me, waiting for me to wake up. Just you and me. I knew then that my life was never going to be the same and that this tiny human being would be with me forever.

I remember how badly I wanted to hold you when you were under the lights for your jaundice. How I would pretend to be nursing you long after you were finished so I could hold you longer, even though the nurses told me to put you back down. You felt so warm even though you were only in a diaper.

I remember the first time your father and I attempted to let you "cry it out". I think you screamed for five minutes in the bassinet on your dad's side of the bed, and I cried right along with you. I was in complete agony! I wanted to pick you up and hold you so desperately.

I remember raising you up to see out of the large bay window in our house in Indiana. I would point and say, "sky, tree, green grass." Your gaze was so wide as you took everything in. I will never know what, if anything, was going on in your newborn mind but it made me feel so good to be in those moments with you.

I remember singing to you, one song in particular. A song I had heard many times before, but that didn't have the impact it did until after you were born. Any time you would get upset I would circle the house, holding you, bouncing you, and sing. That song will always mean the world to me, because of you.

I remember not wanting to put you down the night before I went back to work. I remember what I was wearing even. Standing in the living room, near tears at the thought of not spending a whole day with you. The heaviness on my heart in that moment can never be forgotten.

I remember one time when you were sick, a little older, and I was going through a mental checklist of all the things I could possibly do for you. Having completed them all, we were reduced to just rocking. You were sitting facing forward on my lap. I swayed back and forth and held a cool rag on your head. Your eyelashes would rise and fall with the rhythm of the chair. Your hair was long with curls on the end. I was worried about your not feeling well but completely calm at the same time, holding my baby.

Thank you for being in my life. And for turning three so that I may have the chance to go back and remember so much of what made the last few years so special. We all love you very much!

Happy Birthday!

"Him"

Kendan talks. A lot. Not any more, or better, than the rest of the kids his age, but all of his talking leaves me in awe daily. "When did he learn that?!" "Did he just say, ________?" It's helpful. He can tell me, in no uncertain terms, that he does not want to leave the park to go home for nap, and not just by throwing a tantrum. His talking is also helpful when I ask him what his little brother is up to from the other room or send him to ask his dad a question from upstairs. But, it can also be annoying. I remember when I longed for someone to talk to when Kendan was an infant. Now, I find myself wishing he'd be quiet for just two minutes so I can enjoy silence! He narrates his every move, he makes sound effects for his every move, and he tattles on Brother's every move. But, I do mostly love it. I'm so glad he can communicate effectively. I see Damien struggling with something and wish he could just verbalize the issue; I sometimes even expect answers to the questions I ask him. With increased vocalization comes a lot of repeating. We learned a while ago certain words that need to be prohibited from Kendan's ear shot. And, now it is whole phrases he regurgitates several hours, or days, after he has heard them. There are improper tenses, mispronunciations, and some flat-out made up words. Here are a few things Kendan has had us laughing, and cringing, at lately.

Everyone is a "him." Women, men, children, animals. And "him" seems to be the only tense of the word he acknowledges; there is no "he" or "his." So, a typical sentence I might hear from Kendan (and have heard from him) goes like this, "Mama, him put hims dress on! Him look so pretty!"

When Kendan goes to the bathroom he has to "tuck 'it' down" to ensure that the whole bathroom doesn't get sprayed. Recently, Mamaw Patti was in town and told Kendan she had to go potty. "Not forget to tuck it down," he happily reminded her.

Damien cries a good amount, considering he is a baby and all. Kendan has been known to tell him to "stop crying" and call him a "drama queen." But, lately, he has been standing up for his defenseless younger sibling. When we get frustrated and exclaim, "Damien, please!" Kendan is quick to say, "him just want a cracker!"

In teaching Kendan sounds over the last couple years I would say, "do you hear that sound? A (fire truck)." Kendan began inquiring about every sound he would hear with, "a noise?" and a puzzled look. The end of the word "noise" always in a higher, inquisitive pitch. As he got older it became, "heard dat noise?" And, now, he will ask me, "Mama, heard dat noise? It's a (fire truck)!" Answering his own question immediately, every time. My favorite part of this phrase is that it's always "noise." Not a sound. It's as if he's a crotchety old man and everything he hears is just "noise."

Spider-Man is "Pider-Man." It makes it extra adorable when he is very deep into character but is still pronouncing it incorrectly.

If Kendan needs to blow his nose he gasps and yells, "I have a booger!"

Everything is about control for Kendan right now. So, when I see him dancing around because he is about to pee his pants he will insist he does not have to go when I suggest that he should. He always tells me, "no 'doh' potty. I just rockin' and rollin'."

Kendan tells me each morning every item he needs at the breakfast table. My favorite is his dinosaur shaped vitamins that he calls, "rawr vemens."

When in the throws of the stomach flu recently, Kendan saw my Diet Coke sitting on the ottoman tray. He said, "I just have a 'little bit-it' of your pop. Ok, Mama?" It is so sweet when he says "little bit-it" for "little bit" that I almost caved and gave him some! Had I not feared catching the virus myself I would have.

Anything Kendan suspects he will not like at the dinner table is avoided as he says, "I no like dat. It make me cough."

In the last couple weeks Kendan has really gotten into Star Wars. But, he refers to Darth Vader as "Star Wars." When Vader comes on screen Kendan gasps and says, "Here come Star Wars! Oh my gosh!"

If Kendan has not done something I asked him to do his favorite response to my asking if it's done is, "not 'et'." I cannot get mad at him for having not yet completed something when he says that!

My tampons have always been a favorite toy for Kendan. He always knew they were called "tampons" too. Then he had to know why I had them. I told him they were for when Mommy goes potty. A couple days later, while straining to push out a poop, he looks at me and whispers, "I need a 'two-m-pon'."

I use the maps app on my phone often and Kendan likes to repeat the verbal directions it gives. Once, it was telling me to make a U-turn. From the backseat, Kendan repeats, "Mama, U-turn!" I said, "a U-turn?" He frustratingly yells, "no, you turn! I no have a steering wheel."

I taught Kendan his birthday, the street he lives on, the state he lives in, and his full name one day. But, the full name part confused him. "Kendan Guy Kaplowitz," he repeated. And then he said, "I not Guy Kaplowitz! Dat Grandpa!"

He has even begun to make up people and languages. He made up a super hero named "Tag-a-wa" who "has a weird tooth." When he wears his blankie on his head I know he is "Tag-a-wa." And I know to just reply with "oh really?" when he begins speaking in jibberish during lunch because it is a made up language. Every night I sing him two songs before bed. Long gone are the days of singing "Twinkle Twinkle" and "Hush Little Baby." He has had me making up impromptu songs about whatever random object he chooses from his line of sight for a while now. But, I knew I was in for an entirely different stage with my child when he had me make up a song about a made up word! I couldn't tell you what the word was, or the random lyrics to my song, to save my life.

I swear he became an overnight teenager with as much as he says. Thankfully, his blankies are still "ah-ah's" and Damien is still "Brudder." But, other than that I never know what we will get from his mouth. It may make me crack up, it may make me shudder in embarrassment. But, usually, it makes me completely melt. I couldn't have envisioned that even the sassiest thing coming out of my toddler's mouth could be one of the best things I have ever heard. It has brought my attention to what I am saying in front of him, to just how much he is learning every day, and it has been an insight to how is amazing little mind works. He can express concern, interest, worry, emotions, and every feeling with almost complete clarity. It has made us closer. We communicate. And when I look at him and tell him, "I love you so much" and he replies, "I love you too" it is the most amazing thing I have ever heard him say.