Dear Kiddo, Bubba, and Charley

If life is made up of moments, my life is crammed with them right now. You all are keeping me on my toes.

Kiddo, I just tucked you into bed. As I put you to bed every night, I’ve started asking you if you know I love you. You grin with the goofiest smile and nod your head. I kiss your forehead, as you bury your nose into Wuvie, a very threadbare thing you’ve carried around since you could walk. The other day you found the backup Wuvie, and insisted on carrying both of them around, proudly proclaiming “Two Wuvie!”, showing off your new-found speech (and counting) skills. I’m so impressed with your recent ability to communicate with us. I can tell you’re really working on it. You refer to yourself in the third person, which, of course, at age three, is adorable. “Kiddo is hungry.” “Kiddo play trains with you.” “Kiddo go in car.” “No, Kiddo stay.” “Kiddo no want chicken. No quay-diya. [quesadilla] No ta-tee-to. [taquito] No, no kiddo want bean. Cheese!”

Then, there are moments that I admit I’m watching the hands on the clock, feeling the seconds crawl by, waiting for it to be close enough to 7:00 to attempt to put everyone to bed, myself included. Most of those moments come out of the exhaustion of trying to keep up with everyone. Bubba, you try. My. Patience. You are into everything, relentlessly, voraciously, and insatiably. You are climbing on chairs, on sofas, on Christmas ornament boxes, on diaper boxes, on tables. When I can finally stop you from getting ON things, you resort to getting IN things: cabinets, drawers, closets. You’ve figured out doorknobs, and will spend 45 seconds opening and closing a door before you move on to the next nearest thing you can disturb. In fact, that’s what you are: a little stuff-disturber. I’m so tired of telling you no, sweet boy. Even if your evil laugh is charming, you need to know now that one of these days, it will get you into trouble. Please grow up to be a little bit more cautious.

There are darling moments right now, bedtime story moments, quiet, rare moments when everyone is being kind to one another, that I want to freeze. Brothers hugging (so sweet), chasing (in circles, getting dizzy, falling down), talking (and interpreting an entirely strange language), throwing fish lip kisses at me as you climb the stairs to take a tub.

Charley, you are managing to keep up with your brothers just fine. Tonight, I laid you on the sofa and they scrambled to crawl up beside you. From where you lay, you took it all in, never taking your eyes off of them. They are very sweet brothers, always concerned that we don’t forget you when we leave to run errands. Bubba “tries” to pick you up, and Kiddo will kneel down beside you and look straight in your eyes and talk to you–about what, I’m not sure. I can’t believe you’re already almost four months old. Even though we’ve had the most relaxed December I’ve had in years, and I’m savoring every moment, it still feels like those moments with you are flying way too fast.

And more often than the darling moments, more frequent that the quiet moments, more discouraging than the tired moments, and more frustrating than the flying moments, are the funny moments. Not funny now, but one of these days, I’ll know I’ll find the memories humorous, after I get past the exhaustion of life as I currently know it. Today, as I stood in the kitchen cleaning up a broken glass jar of Alfredo sauce, while Bubba threw rice on the floor, and Kiddo had a potty accident on the floor of the living room, and Charley screamed from the other room, and I ran my fingers through my hair, only to replace the peanut butter (that Kiddo had earlier patted on me) with Alfredo sauce that I forgot was all over my hands, I told myself to remember those things, because they’ll be gone, all too soon.

Love all three of you monkeys,
Momma