Caleb: 19 Months

I think I already covered my "welcome" to 19-months in my post about the best and worst of times : ) Besides a growing sense of independence (also known as stubbornness) there has been a lot to love about this month.

Caleb is very much becoming my little helper. Anytime I can find a way to involve him in helping out around the house his face lights up with delight. It's as if he can think of no joy greater than bringing me the dishtowel so I can dry his bib or moving the laundry from the basket to the couch for me to fold. I am, of course, enchanted by this behavior and find my eyes misting up as I watch these seeds of independence grow.

My little helper also loves to give hugs and to share, especially with small babies. He recently tried to feed my bestfriend's 4 month old a cherrio in nursery. With kids his own age...hmm, not so much. While he plays nicely for the most part, they better not try to share his mommy or daddy's attention. My lap has an occupancy rating of one according to Caleb. Still, it is sweet to see the affection he pours out over our friend's babies and definitely makes me yearn to give him a little brother or sister even more!

Another adorable new development this month is his growing engagement in story time. He loves his animal books and is now starting to make other animal sounds besides "Moo". He does a great chicken impression (boc boc!!!), but his cock-a-doodle-do is the most endearing thing ever. "What does a rooster say Caleb?" "DOE-dee-DOE-DOE-DOE!!!!" Love it! Even if he doesn't know what an animal says, he will make up a sound and say it so enthusiastically it's impossible not to laugh.

Books with numbers and counting are also getting some special attention. He loves pretending to count the items on the page by touching each object 5 or 6 times. It doesn't sound that exciting on paper, but it's sooo cute to watch.

Caleb's love of all things round continues and "ball" is still his favorite word. A ball is anything circular so our daily conversations go something like this:

Caleb: "Ball?" (pointing to clock)
Mommy: "Clock"
Caleb: "BALL!!!"
Mommy: *shrug*

Rinse and repeat. Lol. He'll get it eventually : )

Last, but not least, we finally had our 18-month well baby visit this month. He's grown a whopping 1.5 inches in 4 months, keeping him in the 50th percentile. I forgot to ask what he weighed last time, but at 23lbs, 10oz he is holding steady at the 20th percentile still. I'm thankful because he definitely dropped about a pound due to the prolific number of stomach bugs our family has attracted over the past 3 months.

Here are some of my favorite photos from this month:

Jungle animals are taking center stage at our house this month

Caleb in his "tiger" outfit

Spending some quality time with his BFF, giraffe

Pretending to be an elephant. I may or may not have started this when I convinced him that elephants wear socks...and if he wants to be an elephant, he has to wear socks too...

My little tiger on his slide. I love that he can burn so much energy indoors and that it brings him so much delight!

On Giving Thanks

Did you guys see all the "Thankful November" status updates on facebook? I loved reading them. One, however, made my stomach sink a little every time I read it.

I'm thankful for my health

Over the past few months, my doctors have been able to rule out just about everything that could possibly be giving me the horrible pelvic and abdominal pain I've been in for almost 2 years. Which has left us with the dual diagnosis of Fibromyalgia and Chronic Accute Myofacial Pain Syndrome.

Unpacked, those terms basically mean that I have a hypersensitized central nervous system that causes me to feel pain from everyday stimuli. My husbands hug and my son's snuggle bring me both joy and pain. The fibro is an all over ache that you can find quite easily by gently squeezing any of my muscles. The myofascial pain manifests itself in knots of hyper-tender points throughout my abdomen that cause me constant pain (and are what sent me to the doctor in the first place).

Myofascial pain syndrome isn't recognized by a lot of doctors. In fact, I probably would have said it sounded like a fake disease myself, until I became the one whose life was being turned upside down by it and no other plausible explanation can be found. The great news is, it's not fatal and there is a wonderful pain clinic in DC where I'm receiving treatment under a neurologist and physical therapist for a disease most doctors don't even know about.

Coming to grips with this diagnosis has been my battle these past few months. At first I went back and forth between self pity and rationalizing why "it's not so bad". I struggled with seeing so many healthy 25 year old friends of mine who don't spend 1 day every 2 weeks getting poked with needles to help tense muscles release. However, I also have a 25 year old friend who has battled leukemia for several years and recently had to have both hips replaced because of a side effect from her treatment. Who am I to complain? I am thankful for my health.

Slowly, God convicted me that playing the "who has it worse/better than me" game is asking the wrong question. The answer is always "yes, someone does have life harder/easier than I do." The question God wants me to be concerned with is, "Am I willing to glorify and praise him in the circumstances I've been given?" Or, will I waste my life waiting for the way I thought he was going to use me to take place?

Life is not how we imagined it would be before we said "I do". After a day of running after our very active toddler, I struggle against crabbiness in the evenings. David does quite a bit of the housework in addition to being the bread winner. Sometimes I have to go lie down for an hour or two the pain gets so bad. Our house is often messy. Not just a little bit. We definitely never thought we'd be delaying having a second child or wondering if I'd ever be physically able to carry another. We don't answer phone calls, have people over for dinner or keep in touch with family as well as we should because we are so exhausted from trying to cope with the pain and it's effects on our family.

Watching our dreams being deferred month after month has been painful. Slowly though, we are learning to trust that God is offering us something better.

The catalyst for beginning to understand this was a sermon our friend, and church elder, preached about the Israelites coming out of Egypt. Apparently there were two roads to the promised land (check out Exodus 13:17-14:4). A nice, short, easy one and the way God actually took them, through a barren desert. Had they been given the choice, I'm sure the Israelites would have picked the short road. Wasn't God's plan for them the promised land? He'd said it himself.

However, although God had taken the Israelites out of Egypt, he still needed to take the love of Egypt out of their hearts so that they wouldn't be led astray once they reached their destination. Before marriage we had our eyes on the promised land of a large family and thriving marriage. We've found ourselves in the desert. And it's taken me about a year to realize it's not a mistake or a detour.

We're here because of the things we can only learn when all of our dreams seem to be crashing down around us. We're learning to love one another, not because it's easy, but because it's what we've been called to. I'm no longer the bouncy, joyful wife David used to come home to. Even when I'm able to avoid outright crankiness and harsh words, I tend to be more subdued. It hasn't stopped him from being the most amazing husband and father I could ever imagine. It's made me love him even more for all the responsibilities he has so willingly taken on. I'm learning to parent, not in my own strength and wisdom, but on my knees, because I know I am unable to meet my son's needs on my own. We're both learning to trust God to write our future, rather than dictate our dreams to him.

I am thankful. Not just for the level of health I do experience, but for this refining fire that has come into our lives and shaped us in ways we could never have imagined when our eyes were looking at the promised land. We are in the desert and our eyes are on God.

It was the worst of times, Until it became the best of times

Remember that sweet, compliant 18 month old I wrote about? Yeah...that's not how 19 months is going. And definitely not how today was going.

Lately, everything is a power struggle. I know, I know, welcome to toddlerhood. It's not that I didn't see this coming, but now that it's here I'm wondering how we will both survive until age 3.

He wants to put his own shoes on, but he can't so he's upset. Mommy tries to help, which triggers fresh (piercing) screams of frustration. This scene replays as he tries to:

-Climb into the highchair
-Buckle the high chair
-Put together a puzzle
-Play with mega blocks
-Add a second pair of shoes to the shoes he's already wearing

He keeps signing eat, but doesn't want anything I feed him. Old favorites, new temptations, food served on a banana spoon, food off mommy's plate. None of my tricks are working these days. I wonder if he somehow knows he is getting a well baby check up tomorrow and is trying to drop any ounces he may have actually gained since the last one.

By one o'clock I'm gazing longingly at the clock counting down the minutes until David gets off work. By two o'clock I decide Mr. Cranky is taking a nap. Mommy needs him too. Which of course means...no nap. I eat lunch anyway, take several deep breaths, and get him up after about an hour (he is mostly quiet during this time).

And that's when everything changes. Apparently refreshed by the solitude, he starts chatting with me, "nananana?" Sure son, anything you say with a smile. He actually eats a decent meal. Life is going great. And then it gets even better.

Caleb asks to look out the window. I pick him up and he starts saying "Bobobobobo" and laughing hysterically. I put my lips against his forehead and drag out the "BO" noise, ending it in a kiss. He thinks this is the best game ever and laughs and laughs. After several minutes, instead of saying "bobobo" back to me, he gets super still, says "Ma ma" in the sweetest little voice and hugs me. A big bear hug that lasted minutes and not seconds. Something my little ball of energy rarely slows down for.

Instantly it became the Best. Day. Ever. I love being a mom.