Archive for November, 2010

I Make Dreams Come True, It’s Kinda My Thing.

posted by on 11/16/2010

Troy had his birthday party on Saturday. The Grandma brigade was in the house and I’m medium scared of them when they are grouped together. No one is able to get a word in and my mother-in-law sometimes just says random Thai words when she is speaking to you and I’m pretty sure Troy can understand her no matter what language she is breaking down. He loves all of his grandmas, they totally have his back.

Grandma Mafia

I’ve been talking up Troy’s birthday for a good six weeks, I mean, he’ a toddler and all. You never know how it could play out. He might cooperate and be all about it and behave like someone should when people bring you presents or he could lie down on the floor and talk to his shoe and try to pull the tablecloth off the table. Since he stayed up much too late the night before and woke up super early the morning of his party, it was a beautiful mix of both.

Troy’s only request for his birthday was a “pinkie monster cake”. Pink happens to be his favorite color, probably because of his sister and the fact that his eyes have been bombarded with pink since birth. He loves pink and we are fine with it. By we, I mean me. Jeff and my mother are on the fence about it, but dammit, if my son wants a pink cake, he’s going to get a pink cake. Plus I’ve been very ill and Jeff felt super sorry for me and didn’t want to argue with me.

Momma’s got this, Troy.  Obviously.

pinkie monster cake

So I have a three year old.  Except he holds up four fingers.  That’s okay, we’ve got a year to work it out.

Three.  No wait, four.

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For My Littlest G.

posted by on 11/12/2010

Dear Troy,

You have had a big year.  While you are a much easier toddler compared to Satan your sister at this age, that is not to say we haven’t had our ups and downs.  You have been seen by more doctors these last twelve months than your sister has seen in nine years.  Everyone warned me that boys were much different than girls, I guess we should have warned our insurance provider as well.

This past week, you completely mastered the potty training situation and I can’t say I had anything to do with it.  I did buy you new “under-dares” and cheer like a jackass when you made any sort of progress, but other than that, you decided to do this all on your own.  You now run and find me after any sort of toilet related success and pull my hand and say, “Come see!” and we celebrate.  And wash your hands.  Please know you can always, always count on me to celebrate with you, for you, no matter what.  I mean, maybe when you do something other than putting your potty in the toilet.  This is cute and all, but I’m thinking when you are in high school maybe we can celebrate for good grades or something.

When you wake up the morning, either next to my bed or in my bed, (let’s work on this), the first thing out of your mouth is always, “Where’s Zoe?”.  I think you know how incredibly lucky you are to have such a kick ass sister, she loves you to pieces.  Sometimes you call her Mom and that’s ok, I know she helps you out with stuff, like opening those godforsaken drinkable yogurts aka crack that the two of you love so much.  Sometimes you accidentally call me Nana and that is really not ok.  I will prefer for my grandchildren to call me Awesome, but we will cross that bridge when we come to it.

I would also like to thank you for playing with your toys and not bothering anything ever.  Do you know when your sister was two she locked herself in my bathroom and squirted out an entire brand new tube of toothpaste and smeared it all over the mirror/counter/cabinets/floor?  I like to give credit where credit is due and you were a seriously awesome two year old.  I can barely stand it when you want us to play, you say “Come play for me”.  Don’t ever learn the correct way to use with and for, I’m seriously fine with that.  Of course, that will probably cut back on the cheering for good grades that we talked about, but you can count to 15, so you are well on your way to academic success.  I just won’t focus on the fact that you learned your numbers by watching Nascar with your dad.

Someone recently made a comment about how lucky my children were to have a mother like me (they didn’t know me that well).  I actually could not disagree more.

I’m the lucky one.

T+Momma

Happy 3rd Birthday little dude.  You are sunshine.

Love,

Momma (and Daddy. Even though he didn’t help write any of this letter because he has trouble with feelings and stuff. I’m certain he feels the same.)

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