You know what’s cute? When Jonathan picks up his toy phone, adopts his most serious tone, and says into the phone, “This is Pastor Roberts…Uh huh….Uh huh…Ok bye.”
Since Kate turned ten and Jonathan is 2 3/4, we decided it was time for a little switcharoo. I’d been talking to Jonathan about the “big boy bed” in his room, which doubles as our guest bed, but he always responded with, “I want to go in there,” pointing to his crib.
But then we got the idea of putting him in with Sophia, on the bottom bunk, and moving Kate into his room. No surprise, Kate was all for it. But he was, too. He’s been talking for weeks about “sleeping in Boo Boo’s bed” (Boo Boo being Sophia), so we decided today was the day when his crib would go Bye Bye and he’d move one room over.
I bought new purple bedding for Kate, washed Jonathan’s handmade quilt, a baby gift from a writer friend, and Derek took down the crib and put it out of sight.
We moved the lower bunk mattress to the floor to make sure he wouldn’t roll out of it first, and cleaned out dressers and moved pictures and reorganized the lives of two of our children.
Jonathan was quite pleased with his new bed.
So was Kate.
Now Kate’s got the best view in the house–the mountain view. Lucky girl!
And Jonathan? He doesn’t miss the view, because he’s busy having sweet dreams in his new Big Boy Bed.
Next up: Potty training and pacifier taking-away. But one thing at a time.
Two years ago today, this little boy changed our lives.
We all immediately and completely fell head over heels in love with him.
Kate became a second mother to him, and Sophia became his best pal.
On his first birthday, we’d just had a storm that left us without electricity most of the day. It came back on just in time for his party.
Now another year has flown by. He loves his sisters, Kate-Kate and Boo-Boo. He’s all boy, head-butting and hitting with his golf club, and then he’s all sweetness, patting me in the hurt spot and saying contritely, “Sorry, mommy.” He’s a fantastic sleeper. With us knowing nothing of boy things (and owning no boy toys), he’s staked out the baseball bats, golf clubs, and Thomas the Tank Engine book for himself. He climbs the stairs and counts them, and is something of a shoe fanatic. Like his dad, he eats to live (unlike his mom and sisters, who live to eat).
I suppose I should stop calling him “Baby Jon.” But I probably won’t until he makes me.
***Update, 9:26 p.m.****
I jinxed myself saying he was a good sleeper. I even hesitated when writing that and then thought, “Don’t be superstitious.” But I should have been. Because my little boy, who goes to bed without a peep every night at 7:30 p.m. sharp, refused to go to bed tonight. He cried and cried. I rocked him, kissed him, gave him a drink, gave him some ibuprofen, showed him his sissies, who were mock-sleeping in encouragement…nothing. Nope. No bed. At 9:25 we called Daddy, on his way home from Memphis, and Derek told him it was bedtime. It worked. I think. Maybe he was holding out for Derek’s goodnight.
It’s spring, so we chopped off the hair. Sophia’s short curls really suit her spunky personality. Jonathan, despite his indignation at being made to sit for a photo, is handsome and looking like a boy again (his hair and eyelashes were so long, even when he was in head to toe blue people were calling him “she”). Kate, a newly-declared tomboy, decided to rid herself of four inches of dead weight. She’s running track this spring and loving it, but has decided everything “girly” in her life has to go.
You won’t hear me complain.
Twenty months ago, this little guy came into our lives. He was unexpected, but greatly anticipated. Before him, I never knew our family wasn’t complete, but in retrospect the potential hole seems obvious. His arrival changed my life, literally and figuratively. I am actually a different person, and he was the catalyst for that change. It’s more than that we “finally” had a boy, as some people put it.
The truth is, before Jonathan, I had my priorities skewed. I was studying for the sommelier certification and had my mind and path running solely in that direction. My life goal was to get Sophia in preschool so I could “finally” get moving on my professional plans.
I didn’t appreciate my children as much as I should have. I didn’t realize that their young years were fleeting, that I should pay attention to them and–more importantly–enjoy them. That I should be glad for snow days and spring breaks and not wish I were working.
I found this out the hard way, through nine months of being so sick that I could barely drag myself out of bed. Nine months of throwing up and living for the moment when I could climb back into bed, only to be taunted by a whirling brain and an inability to physically accomplish anything beyond the bare minimum. Nine months in which I discovered that I could put my career on the skids and no one–least of all me–noticed. Nine months of reflection resulting in me finally–truly–accepting my various God-given vocations.
The hardest lessons are never pleasant, but the reward at the end–Jonathan–certainly was. By the time he was born, I was truly prepared for him. I had never anticipated a baby like I anticipated him. Moments after he was born, I felt an overwhelming physical change. I wasn’t sick any more! And I had this amazing, precious baby in my arms, and I was ready to love him and cherish every moment with him and let everything else fall into place in its own time. And, of course, it did.
He is sweet-tempered, loving, cuddly, and fun. Our entire family dotes on him. I simply can’t get enough of him. None of us can. He says “whoa-whoa” when he wants a sucker and “nak!” when he wants a snack. He calls his pacifier “bear.” He smiles at you with his eyes, and he wraps his arms around you when he wants to cuddle. He starts every morning off with a banana (quartered the long way and sliced), and finishes the day by brushing his own teeth and having a story.
This is not to say that each of our girls isn’t adorable, interesting, and special (because they certainly are). But having this little boy, with the dynamic of two older sisters who love on him and mother him and create a cocoon for him, has been an absolute joy. Having Jonathan in our family has taught me just how quickly time flies when you slow down and enjoy it.
After yesterday’s post, I thought I should turn my thoughts in happy directions. Sometimes it’s the little things, like being able to eat again after a stomach virus. Like being able to eat this fresh, grassy olive oil sent to you as a Christmas gift from Jordan Estate winery in California.
Then there’s the bemusement of watching your 18-month-old son discover that he, too, can open Christmas presents!
And finally, the inside joke gift from your good friends in Maryville* (pronounced “Murvul”):
* Not intended to imply anything one way or another about the call. Just sayin’.
Jonathan’s hair was getting long.
I couldn’t bear to do anything about it for the longest time.
It reminded me of my dad’s hair when he was little. (No offense, dad. And isn’t this the cutest plaid family picture you’ve ever seen?)
So we took him in for a haircut yesterday.
Our whole family goes to Jennifer, the best hairstylist in the city, who also happens to belong to our church. She’s the one who bought me the Redneck Wineglass.
Look at how long this hair is. Yep. It was time for a cut.
Jonathan was pretty good about sitting still…for awhile.
Jennifer even managed to trim the back. Then…
Wahh! He was over it.
We got his certificate, collected some hair, and got outta there.
This morning, he looks older.
But he’s still my baby.