Dear Graham, In the Wake of Tragedy

Dear Graham,
This isn't a normal one of your monthly letters. Instead it's one that is about a life experience that I hope you never have to endure, and yet I know you will. It's one of grief for your fellow humans, raw sadness and such emotional, disappointed despair.

While you may never read about this in a history book like you will Pearl Harbor or September 11, today at least 20 children were murdered in a mass school shooting. This is nothing a two-year old could comprehend. In fact, it's nothing your 32-year-old mommy can comprehend.

So, why do I write you about such a horrific event?

It's because it's so easy to take this event and think it defines us. It's because we can be so quick to harness the negative and believe that it is our future. It's because it is so horrific that it's hard to take its senselessness and believe that it's just that: senseless.

I write to tell you that this is not how you have to choose for your world to be defined. As I rubbed your back in your crib tonight with tears rolling off my cheeks and onto your blanket, I have such hope for you.  Just like one person can cause an event that can bring a nation to its knees like we have today, another one person can be a beacon of hope, joy and love.

In light of something as horrific as we are experiencing today, it's easy to think one person can't possibly make enough of a difference to compensate for this type of destruction. And maybe that's true. But while one person can't, 10 people can. Or 1,000 people can. Or 1 million people can. And together, in that unity of service, compassion and respect for our fellow human beings, positive things can happen.

The future can be bright.

I write to you to ask you to be one of those 10. Or 1,000. Or 1 million. Because the good works of one can multiply in ways you never believed possible and send ripples of blessings through a society that is in need of that hope.

Love,
Mommy

Dear Graham, 27 months (plus one day)

Dear Graham,
Technically, your 27th month ended one day shy of Halloween, but I can't post all of the pictures leading up to Halloween and not Halloween day itself.

Like a page out of a storybook, October involved all things fall-related, including pumpkins, fall festivals, farms, costumes and, of course, trick or treating. And you loved it all. Seeing the excitement through your eyes made the month so much fun, except for those few moments at your fall festival when you became deathly afraid of another little boy wearing a Hulk costume. Apparently you loved all of October except the scary masks.

We started the month with a long weekend in Florida so your mommy could throw one of her best friends a baby shower. Our flight was delayed for nearly two hours before taking off, and you could not understand why you couldn’t get on a plane. Right now. It didn’t matter which plane or where it was going. You just wanted on it. And with your speaking abilities only continuing to improve, I heard about how you wanted to get on the airplane about 1,000 times. When we were finally on the plane, you were great at flying and did really well staying in your own seat the entire time. While in Florida you entertained everyone, from your Auntie Shann who took you to the zoo where you fed the giraffes to your Uncle Troy who you would call for when he wasn’t in the room.

Also during the month, we managed to cram in not one, not two, but three trips to three separate farms. For the little boy who sings “Old Macdonald Had a Farm” nonstop, this was pure bliss for you. The first trip involved a pumpkin patch at a Christmas tree farm. While you loved riding on the hay ride, you pretty much could care less about posing next to some pumpkins. The farm was conveniently located next to a municipal airport, so you spent much of your time watching airplanes take off and land. Little did you know that after the farm, we headed to that airport to eat in their little café, which features lots of windows for you to watch planes through.

 

The next weekend featured a trip to Dewberry Farms, where you jumped (on a bounce house), played (on a playground), petted (animals in the petting zoo), rode (a little train) and ran around until your heart was content. By the time we went to pose with some pumpkins at the end of the visit, you wanted no part of sitting with an orange spherical object when there was so much other fun to be had. 

On your third and final trip to a farm in October, you went for a birthday party that involved really seeing the animals up close and even riding on a pony. When you said you wanted to ride a pony, I had visions of us waiting in line only to have you change your mind once it was your turn. However, you surprised me in not only getting right on it, but not wanting to get off of it when your time was done. Now at home when we read your farm book, each time we come to the page with horses and ponies you talk about how you rode the pony at Charlie’s birthday. It clearly was a memorable experience. 

You were a cowboy for your third Halloween and this was really the first year that you experienced trick-or-treating, even though you had no clue that you received candy at each house (in fact, you denied the single piece of candy we were going to let you have after trick-or-treating and then you never asked about it again). We went with neighborhood friends who range in age from three to six. But you were not going to let being the youngest slow you down. You would run with them in your cowboy boots, making sure not to fall behind. And they would help you open your candy bag and get to and from each house. You would yell “yee-haw” when asked what a cowboy says. And you kept your cowboy hat on all night long.

During your 27^th month, we really learned how much more you can comprehend, which never ceases to surprise me. You respond much better to knowing what a situation will be like in advance, so I spend a lot of time telling you about what we’re going to do, or experience. It also means that you get a lot of “five more minutes” warnings before it’s time to leave a situation or take a bath or go to bed, because it makes transitions so much easier.

Not everything about parenting is so easy, especially when you are so strong-willed (a trait that I think will eventually serve you well). On a day filled with those special moments that only a two-year old could create, it was finally your bedtime. I offered to sing you a song after prayers and chose Jesus Loves Me. On this particular night after a long day the word “no” coming out of your mouth frequently, when I got to the chorus and sang “Yes, Jesus loves me,” you promptly said “no.” And then I would repeat it in the chorus, to which you said “no” again. And it played out this way through the entire song.

On this one particular night, I don’t think I was ever so excited to say good-night and pour myself a large glass of “I-survived-a-two-year-old-today” wine.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Graham, 25 and 26 Months

Dear Graham,

Yes, I am combining two months. It’s the only way it seems I can catch up on your monthly letters in what is an increasingly busy life. Speaking of busy, you are. All the time. You want to “go, go, go” (and tell us so frequently) and you point to “that, that, that” when you don’t know what something is called. Most times, you do know the names of items, so your “that” pointing is getting less and less. I value the time when you want to read a book or snuggle while watching Cars because it seems like our quiet time is becoming squeezed between all of this going and doing. You’ll come up to me and say “Mama, lap.” And I stop whatever it is I’m doing to have you climb aboard. 

 

I feel like every month I tell you that you vocabulary has taken off, but it is such a big part of your development these days. You know so many words, including important things like Florida State’s coach’s name (Jimbo), Florida State’s horse’s name (Renegade) and what we say when the Gators come out (booooo!). But you also know how to read parts of your books to me and your daddy. My current favorite to hear you read is a new book you got for your birthday called “Don’t Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late,” during which a pigeon gives every excuse under the sun not to go to bed. We get to a page where the pigeon, after yawning, yells “I’m not tired!” Each time we get to this page you try to yell as fast as you can “I’m not tired!” except, in your speed to get it out, you tell “I tired!” and I just smile when looking down at your beaming face. 

 

 

Your daddy and I understand most of your words, but there is one mystery word that has been escaping us for about a month. You say it at different times and in different locations that share no common connection, so it’s been especially hard to figure it out. Your daddy and I have affectionately named the word baba ganoush, although we are pretty sure you aren’t asking for a Middle Eastern eggplant dip. It’s just that the mystery word sounds just like baba ganoush, and it gives us a good laugh. You, however, do not appreciate being laughed at when saying baba ganoush, so we have to hide our pleasure at your cute words. 

We spent nearly every weekend in August going to our community pool and you have no fear of the water. I have visions of us, a year ago, with you floating along in your baby float at the pool. I was torn from this daydream as we trample back and forth from the pool to the baby pool to the splash pad. Repeated over and over and over again. You know, because when we’re enjoying one of the three there might be something so!incredibly!exciting! that you’re missing out on in the other two. I always have to give you plenty of “five more minutes until we leave” warnings, not because you understand the concept of time, but rather so that you know that leaving the pool is something you actually must eventually do. And even with a plethora of warnings, leaving normally involves tears because you want to stay and play more. 

As the weather has started to cool (a bit), I have been trying to run more while pushing you in the jogging stroller. In doing so, I’ve learned pushing a 32 pound boy isn’t the hard part of this scenario. Rather, it’s the fact that you now know where the park is and that it’s along our jogging route and you ask to go from the moment we leave our driveway. (See the “go, go, go” reference above, except it’s “park, park, park, park.”) So, we’ve adjusted my run a bit to include a stop at the park halfway through my run. While leaving the park often evokes similar emotions as leaving the pool, I find people only look at me a little bit strangely when I’m pushing a crying baby around the running track.

Another new recent trick is your learned ability to stall your bedtime routine. While you’ve always wanted us to read just one more book, your latest tactics are when you are actually in your crib. First, you say “back”, which means you want for us to rub your back. After we’ve done so for a minute and then get ready to leave, you say “water.” So we’ve learned to have  sippy cup of water already in your crib. With your two “go-to” tactics easily sidestepped by me and your daddy, you now want a hug and kiss and hold both arms up in the air while lying on your back for a hug. Clearly you know you’re not going to be denied hugs and kisses. Finally, we prepare to walk out of the room and we say “love you” to which you yell back “LOVE YOU.” Except you don’t just want to say it once. You want multiple exchanges of “LOVE YOU” going back and forth between you and either me or your daddy through the closed door. Eventually we have to end it with a “love you, now go to bed, Graham” or I think you would do it all night.

While it adds time to your bedtime routine, hearing you yell “love you” each night over and over as you get ready to go to sleep never gets old.

Love,

Mommy

PS…while you don’t know it now, we’ve started your bedtime routine earlier to make up for all of your stall tactics. LOVE YOU! 

Dear Graham, 24 Months

(There are no pictures in this post because I need to access our backup hard drive and that's giving me some problems but I didn't want to delay the post any longer. I promise lots of pictures in the next post to make up for it. :)

 

Dear Graham,

You are two! And when asked how old you are, you proudly reply “two!” Although I am witnessing your growth live every day, somehow I feel like I put my swaddled baby boy down for bed one night and came in the next morning to discover a big boy. A big boy who likes to hand me every single item out of his crib in the morning as if leaving one stuffed animal or blanket behind would be a form of solitary confinement. A big boy who wraps both arms around my neck and squeezes tight when giving hugs. A big boy who will respond with “mommy, daddy and Graham” when asked who is in our family.

Your language development continues to be such a fascinating thing to witness. I have realized lately that I don’t want to restrict your growth by thinking you may be too young or that you may not understand, so I try to explain everything to you, from red lights meaning “stop” to trying to explain what “pride” meant when we watched nonstop Olympics. Speaking of the Olympics, you might have been their biggest two-year old fan. We watched them pretty much nonstop during the two weeks they were on, with sports ranging from bicycling to gymnastics to track and field to soccer and all those others in between. Anytime you would hear NBC play the Olympic melody, you would say Olympics (which sounded strangely like “pimp-ics,” a fact your daddy found incredibly funny) and run to the TV. Basketball was your favorite and you couldn’t quite understand why it wasn’t on every time you wanted it to be.

Speaking of your TV frustrations, I have realized lately just how spoiled you are by the DVR. You don’t watch a lot of TV, but the TV you do watch is either on DVDs or our DVR. Sesame Street works great for the DVR, as there are no commercials. However, your new favorite movie is Cars, which we recorded on DVR. I think if we were to let you, Cars would be on all.day.long. You can’t get enough of that movie. But you can get enough of the commercials in the movie. You know that they can be fast forwarded through and so any time one comes on, you want to fast forward to get back to the movie. I dread the day you learn about live TV and the fact that you’ll actually have to wait through those 90 seconds of commercials. Oh, the agony.

We went on a quick weekend trip to visit your Granddad and Grand-Gale during your 24^th month. If I have my math correct, this was the 17^th round trip flight of your first 24 months, and your last one that you are considered to be a lap child. You have long loved airplanes and everything about them, but on this trip it was fun to see you notice so many other details. You know what the cockpit is, and what wings and engines are. You liked to watch them put fuel in the airplanes and load the bags. You were loving all things flying until I happened to mention that we were going to get on a bus when we landed to go to our car. And boy did you want on that bus. Right now. When we were at 30,000 feet. There was no amount of explaining that I could do to get you to understand that there was no way to get on the bus at that moment. It taught me an important lesson of the timing of your communication.

We had a great time in Florida and squeezed in an afternoon at the beach. It had actually had been just over a year since you had been to the beach (I know, we are bad parents) and your daddy and I were both eager to see how you would react. You were timid at first, but then you discovered all of the fun that sand, water and sun can offer and you didn’t look back. You somehow thought it would be a good idea to try to eat a bite of sand, and you quickly learned that was not your best idea. But playing in a large hole someone dug and left behind was lots of fun to you!

Of all your developments, perhaps the one that stood out the most was one that involved a little boy at school, Kash. You see, Kash was new to the school and new to your class and was having a hard time adjusting. When I would come in to get you in the afternoons, Kash would cry and the teachers said it was because I looked like his mommy. So one day when I was picking you up Kash was crying so I picked him up before you ran over to me. You didn’t quite know what to do seeing me show affection to another boy. He calmed down and I handed him to the teacher and swallowed you up with hugs. On the drive home, I explained to you that Kash was sad and that you needed to share with him, give him hugs and play with him to help make him feel better and to not be so sad.

The next day at school when I was picking you up the teacher told me that you had a new friend. “Oh, yeah?” I asked? “Who?”

“Kash. Graham kept holding his hand and giving him hugs and playing with him today.”

Graham Mason, I could not have been more proud of you in that moment. I know empathy is a big word for two-year-old, but it wasn’t too big of an action a two-year-old. Being empathetic to others is something that I hope you will grasp on to and never let go. It doesn’t matter how big you will get, how much money you may make or what career path you may choose. Recognizing, acknowledging and responding to someone else’s emotion will never be below you.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Graham, 23 Months

Dear Graham,
If I really wanted to appropriately capture your 23rd month, I would actually begin this letter with "Dear Use-Your-Words-Graham" as I think we likely said that to you more during your 23rd month than we said your name alone.  Yes, this marked the month that we arrived at the tricky stage where whining is so much easier for you to speak and so much harder on your mommy and daddy to hear. But, our persistence in banging our heads against the walls reminding you to use your words seemed to start paying off as the month progressed and you began to realize you could get what you wanted much faster by using those dreaded things we adults call "words."

In addition to telling you to use your words, I often would tell you that "babies cry, but big boys use words" and then would ask you if you were a baby or a big boy. You always would smile and say "big boy," but now any time we see a baby or mention a baby, the first thing you say is "cry." This may present a challenge if we ever decide to make you a big brother.

During your 23rd month your daddy and I quite possibly lost our minds and decided to take our first true family vacation independent of extended family, although we did work some family time in at the end of our trip. This "vacation" involved being gone for eight nights, sleeping in four different locations, driving for 12 hours and flying for four hours. Yes, I plead insanity and would ask you with your newfound words to kindly say "beach vacation" if your daddy and I ever contemplate something like this again.

All kidding aside, we had an amazing time. We flew into Nashville, TN, where we picked up our rental car and then headed to see mommy's best friend Krista and her husband Griff in Asheville, NC. We spent a night with them, in which we somehow crammed dinner out, a baseball game, a neighborhood walk, your first rendevous with lightening bugs and lots of time looking at their chickens. Funny, I think the chickens are the only thing you remember today,  because when I talk to Krista on the phone, you say "chickens."

From there we headed out to Charlotte for three nights and four days. We wanted to explore the city and get to know a bit more about it. By the time we arrived in Charlotte, you pretty much hadn't napped for two days straight, because apparently you're the only person in the world that doesn't get drowsy when riding in a car. So all of these drives that we conveniently planned during your naps had no impact on you actually taking a nap. This made you such a joy to be around that your daddy kindly nicknamed you the angry midget.
 

Once we got you back on a somewhat normal sleeping schedule, you were awesome. We swam in the pool, explored neighborhoods and yummy restaurants , played at local parks and checked out a children's museum that was spectacular.
 

The museum was divided like a city would be, with a bank, a fire truck, a vet, a post office, etc. You were enjoying all of it, and then we found the trains. And boy, you did not want to leave those trains. So much so that we eventually had to carry you out of it kicking and screaming because you didn't want to leave. Yes, we were those people.

After three nights in Charlotte, we stopped for a night again in Asheville before heading back to Tennessee. We went to a local brewery that had outdoor seating and you entertained yourself by throwing rocks into a puddle. Over and over, you'd find a rock, pick it up and throw it down. It was one of those fascinating times that I see you do something and I wonder just how you even knew to do that.

Following a quick night in Asheville we were on the road again (fun!) to Mursfreesboro, TN to see your Papa and Nana and Uncle Sean and Sam. Papa and Nana were nice enough to volunteer to watch you while your daddy and I went to night one of the CMA Music Fest concert. It was so much fun that we forgot to take pictures. (That actually sums up much of our time in Nashville.)

The next day we headed to Nashville to stay in a hotel for the rest of the CMA Music Fest. We had a babysitter watch you on Friday night and your Uncle Sean and Sam kindly agreed to wake up with you on Saturday morning. I don't quite think they anticipated that being around 5:15, but they kept your word and took you to the park across the street. After mommy and daddy got a few more hours of sleep, we took you to the same park, where they had a train and an airplane. Yes, you were in heaven.

Following naps (for all of us!) we went back to the park for an afternoon concert series they were hosting. We stumbled upon a kids' tent that had lots of toys to entertain you while the music entertained your daddy.

This was until you saw the booth handing out balloons. And you, of course, wanted one. But, that wanting one did not include wanting it tied to your wrist, stroller or having mommy or daddy hold any part of the string. And so you learned an important life lesson.

Listen to your mommy and daddy.

Love,
Mommy