Three Years Ago, Today

Happy, happy birthday, my sweet baby. Every minute since that minute has been better than everything before you, combined.

Gone Like Smoke

There are so many things about being Dash's mother that are amazing and beautiful and I always think I'll never forget. But I do forget. He'll do something twice and I'll think, "Oh, that's something he does and it's so lovely." But then he'll never do it again and so I'll forget.

Here are some things I want to make sure to remember.

* When he's in trouble (which is pretty often, lately) he'll say to me, "I'm not your friend, Mommy!." And I'll say, "That's ok, Dashy. I'll always be your friend anyway." And then he'll come running over and clamp onto my leg and squeeze with everything he has.

* He used to wake up in the mornings and scream bloody murder until one of us went in and got him out of bed. Until one day Josh showed him the monitor and explained that we could hear him even if he didn't scream. So now he wakes up singing, "Maaaamaaaa, Daaadaaaa."

* Somehow he decided that his new pretend name was Peace. Daddy was Crease & I was Shmeese. And now, whenever he hears someone talk about peace, or he makes a peace sign, he'll declare, "that's me! I'm Peace!" Of course he doesn't understand how incredibly beautiful the thing he's saying is. But he's making a connection in his mind between himself and that word, that concept.

* When he's feeling really lovey and content he'll curl up on the couch and call me over to lie down with him. "This is cozy, Mama." He'll say. "This is very comfortable and cozy."

Ornament

I wish I could remember where I read about the concept of cutting a disc from the bottom of your Christmas tree before it goes on the curb. Anyway, the idea was to cut a sliver, note the year and save it as a keepsake.

Because I'm me, I went here:

before

after

Josh will drill a hole in it & it'll be an ornament for next year's tree.

The idea is that I'll make a new one every year until Dash is old enough to take over. I hope he's a quick study because my painting repertoire consists of little houses and cats that look like monkeys.

Still Life: Childhood

Keeping House

Indulge Me

I'm going to take the next couple three posts to document our home and how we live.

They'll be organized loosely around some theme. Today we'll start with white things. Seems appropriate for a new year.

Jeer

I was reading my favorite Mama book, the Creative Family, and I started to freak just a little because the author goes on and on about the "imagination play" that happens endlessly in her family. There are costumes and make-up and it all sounds so, so lovely, but Dash could not care less about costumes and I wondered if maybe I had stilted his imagination with all the tv and whatnot.

So I started trying to jam costumes down his throat--wouldn't you like to dress like a pirate on the high seas? A noble knight slaying the evil dragon? No, and no.

But then today, when I really started to pay attention, he turned our bed into his grandparents' back yard and me into their puppy. It was a totally elaborate set-up, with paths winding through the comforter & stray leaves that had to be removed before he could progress on his scooter. Then he "rode" on one foot while I repeatedly chased him and knocked him down (like the puppy did the day before.)

Earlier he and I had a highly-choreographed light saber battle with a couple of twigs; and then we had a 45-minute game of "throw the stick, pick up the stick, count to three and throw the stick again."

And then, then, we had this exchange while playing "hide from the monsters" under the covers while waiting for Daddy to return with dinner.

Dash: This is Jeer, he's a monster, but he's a good monster.

Mama: Hello, Jeer. How are you?

Dash: Well, he's sleeping right now. He and his brother, Jeer, are both asleep right now.

Mama: Are they twins? Or just brothers?

Dash: They're brudders. I know them from a long time ago when we were little old men together.

So I guess his imagination is intact. He just doesn't really require props.