“Listen to the Musn’ts…”

You’re only given one little spark of madness, you mustn’t lose it – Robin Williams.

There have been many moments the last two years where Sawyer suddenly stopped seeming like a baby and turned into a little boy.  None as definitive as the last week or two as a whole.  My baby suddenly changed. He got big.  He became not only independent by will of mind, but by physical ability and determination.  He no longer waits or even asks for help.  He’s pretty confident that he doesn’t need it anymore.  I probably should just start enrolling him in colleges, maybe help him apartment hunt.  As far as he’s concerned – He’s got this.

He will be two at the end of the month, and with this upcoming birthday, I look back at the last year and the entire thing was a blur.  It went faster than any other year, and there have been so many changes in my life as well as his.  Every day he has done something new, and every week gotten bigger, all the while, every month seems to have brought another drastic change or adjustment to my life outside of his world.  – He hasn’t noticed, I’m considering that a ‘win’.

Throughout all of these changes and growth, I have done my best to enjoy and notice his differences as much as possible.   He has been my rock and my reason the last 12 months.  No longer just being a little life that I need to care for, but he is now a little person that can make you laugh, cares when you’re upset, and who’s wants are no longer always needs.  That’s the biggest difference.  Year one was about needs, and nothing more.  Year two has been about learning to distinguish them, and picking the moments you want to help teach him the difference.  It’s also been about embracing his individual personality.  He’s squirrely, headstrong and happy.  His tantrums are back-arching, shrieking  protests and his opinions are plenty.  He will tell you if his booster chair needs to be wiped down before he gets in it, however, he will sit in a pile of dirt in the back yard and play until he’s covered.  He will open and empty every drawer in the house, but an open door needs to be closed before we can leave the room.  He now smiles in a way where he scrunches his nose at you, and only does this when he knows what he’s smiling about his silly.   His identity as a ‘little boy’ is no better demonstrated than it was 3 minutes ago, when he found a dead fly in the windowsill, picked it up, proudly proclaimed “Bug!”, told me it was “ucky” and then went to put it in his mouth before I quickly intercepted. – This moment adds another to the list of “things that weren’t phrases before I had a child” with “we don’t eat dead flies”. For your amusement, other notables on this list are:

• “I want to eat your feet”
• “Don’t pull on the dogs penis”
• “Don’t chew on the windowsill”
• “Don’t drink from the dog bowl”
• “Don’t lick the shopping cart”

I’m sure there is at least one new ridiculous statement that comes out of my mouth per week.  Sadly, most of our conversation consists of “nos”, “don’ts” and “stops”; as keeping him alive and safe is now a much more difficult these days.  When I can, I try and mark the moments where he says or does something that I have nothing but praise for or that makes all the frustrating moments worth it.  In particular, I always tell Sawyer that I love him more than anything in the whole world.  He now almost always repeats “whole world!” when I say that, and it gives me hope that that statement is sticking every bit as much as all the ” nos and don’ts”.  Then the other day, he gave me that moment that every mother waits for, he said out loud that he loves me.  I actually remember wondering what that moment would be like and how old he would be when it happened while I was pregnant.  I think I even mentioned it in a previous blog.  Well, Thursday, August 7th 2014 – I was leaving and I said ‘ I love you’ and he said ‘ love you’ in response and gave me a kiss.  I actually teared up.   Those moments make the times when he’s repeatedly blowing a whistle, using my bathroom break to crack eggs on my dining room floor, or acting like I just killed his dog because I took away the sharp scissors he was using as a drum stick, make sense.    Most would say it makes it worth it, but they do more than that.  They clarify the relationship, the intent and the general nature of all of his two-year-old goodness.  He’s a little boy.  A little boy that has his dad’s sense of immortality, his aunts level drive, his mothers stubborn independence and his very own outlook and capacity on life and love.  The first 2 years I’ve been watching  him to see who’s traits he inherited, and where I can see myself in him – learning more about us both every day.  And as the days approach ‘two’, I see less of what everyone else has contributed to him and more of who he is all on his own.  A little boy who prefers to play with the big kids, that gets verbally nervous during the climax of a cartoon, will drink bloody mary mix out of a sippy cup if I have one I can’t share, and spends his days contemplating how to conquer and get to wherever it is I’ve attempted to lock him out of (usually successfully).  He’s becoming more than just a toddler doing ‘toddler things’ , but more a toddler doing ‘Sawyer things’.  Suddenly why he does the things he does makes sense, and when they don’t that’s when I know he is doing nothing more than just being himself.

So Sawyer, last year, my wish for you was that you learn that it’s not about the path you choose, but how you choose to travel it.  This year, when you blow your candle out all by yourself, I will be making the wish that despite all the no’s, don’ts and musn’ts — you never lose your spark.

~She Silverstein