Month 34, or Past, Present and Future

Dear Corbin,

You are 34 months old, and it seems like a lot of months and also very few, all at the same time. Dad and I had breakfast with the Stauffers the other day, and I was holding their new baby girl and thinking about how strange it will be to hold an infant again. Baby Sister is going to seem so tiny next to you! Which is also funny, because you're not a really big kid. You're still wearing 24 month pants, after all.

You've taken to climbing all over lately. You climb up the sides of the arm chair, and stand on the arms of the couch. You can climb into your high chair all by yourself. But you still haven't climbed out of your crib, which is fine with me. You did fall off the arm of the chair once and scared yourself and Grandma Lam half to death. I'm sure I should be teaching you not to climb on the furniture, but instead I just keep telling you not to fall off. Judging from the behavior of me and Uncle Alex when we were kids, you come by the mountain goat gene honestly, so you may as well just learn some attendant caution.

You and I managed to survive our couple of weeks together. We did have some new toys to keep us occupied. I opened up a new figure-eight train set and we built some big, twisty railroad tracks. I also sewed up a couple of stuffed puffer fish and we had fun with them. Dad finished up some speakers he was building, and I also made a new book box for you by covering a milk crate in some white canvas. Part of your climbing included the previous one, which was just cardboard and beginning to fall apart. Of course, now that I've made the new one, you haven't stepped foot on it again.

We went to visit your pre-school this month. We found out that your teacher, Rachel, is someone Dad knew already--he used to date her younger sister. Quite the case of, "it's a small world after all." It was nice to feel like we already had a connection, though, and to have some confidence in her. When we enrolled you in her classroom, Rachel went ahead and labelled your coat hook, which made all of the other children very curious. When we finally arrived for your visit, it was practically a mob scene with the other children all wanting to meet you at once. Dad and I went over some paperwork with the director while you were visiting, saw the parent resource center, and found our "mailbox." You and Rachel seemed to have a good visit; she feels that you'll make a fine transition into the classroom. In one way, she already knows you pretty well--she labelled your coat hook with your name and with a picture of a puffer fish.

One of the boys in the class who came over as soon as we walked in asked me how old you were. I said you would be three in February. He said he would be five soon. I looked at him, trying to imagine you as tall as he was, and it was hard to imagine. Then last night, Dad and I were watching Grandpa Lam's movies of you from your birthday this year, and it's amazing how much you've changed. On your birthday in Feb, you signed "more" to say that you wanted to blow out the candles again. On Grandpa's birthday last month, you said, "Do it again!" loud and clear. Amazing.

Dad and I also managed to finally get our wills signed and witnessed. It's always morbid to think about yourself dying, but it's also a really important part about planning for your inevitable future. Dad and I have had a lot of discussions about what might happen if one of us died, and some of them were actually serious. I mean, I'm sure at least half of them were serious.

Wills are important when you're talking about financial and legal arrangements. What they don't address is an emotional legacy, which I think is equally important. Nobody will ever love you as much or in the same way that your dad and I do, and I hope that you never question that. But there are many people in your life who would give you support if you need it. Your grandparents and your aunts and uncles will always listen, and they will always have your best interests at heart. You can reach out to our extended families, to your great-aunts and -uncles. You can even talk to someone outside the family, like Aunt Tabetha or Uncle Jesse, or the Chapmans. Life can be complicated, and decisions can be hard. It's important to get good advice from people that you can trust. And really, that's just as true with Dad and I living. There might come a time when you want advice from someone who isn't your parents, and that's okay. Although, if Uncle Jesse's advice contains the instructions, "OK, now you're ready to pour in the liquid nitrogen," you'd better be calling from somebody else's kitchen.

Love,
Mom


Mom's getting fat:
Puffer fish!

Your train brought Christmas trees to the little city:

Month 33, or Happy Thanksgiving!

Dear Corbin,

We've had an eventful month, this November. You were in Madison at the beginning of the month to keep Grandma and Grandpa Lam all healthy. Then Dad and I both had off of work on the 11th, for Veteran's Day, and we all went to the Science Museum. You have become interested in volcanoes and lava, thanks to one of the illustrations in an alphabet book for the Leap Pad. You pretty much ignore every other page in the book, and you made us look up videos of lava on YouTube. You make us draw big volcanoes in your sketchbook now, alongside the hot air balloons and puffer fish.

So when a friend tipped us off to the Natural Disasters exhibit, we decided we'd better take you. It was about earthquakes, tornadoes and hurricanes, too, but you didn't care about any of those topics. You and I sat at the volcano simulation machine for about half an hour making different types of volcanoes and watching them explode. I got you to visit the part about tornadoes for about 5 minutes before you wanted to go back to the volcanoes. Then we got to see a demonstration about lava, and they even poured hot lava out right in front of us. It was a tiny little amount, but it was still neat to see it. We looked at the dinosaur skeletons, too, but you were sad that we didn't let you climb into the displays and touch them all. Grandma bought you glow in the dark stars and planets for your ceiling, which is something I had as a kid, too, but I think these stars will come down without peeling the paint off of the ceiling, which is a definite improvement.

The next Saturday we had our first real snowfall. We went down in the afternoon to celebrate Grandpa Lam's birthday. When we got home, you helped us shovel the front walk. Then when I wanted to you come in so we could go to dinner, you thought that was the worst idea ever. And when we got home and we wouldn't let you stay outside and play in the snow all night, you were even more upset. Between you and your father--and the dogs--we might as well move to Alaska and get it over with.

And then it was the week of Thanksgiving. I had the day off on Wednesday, so you and I and Grandma Lam went to have breakfast at Midtown Global Market. They do a children's program every Wed morning, and it was the day that dancers were going to come from the Cowles Center. You liked listening to the music and watching everyone else dance, but you didn't want to do any dancing yourself. Aunt Lena flew in on Wed night, after your bed time, so you didn't get to see her until Thursday morning. We made breakfast here and then Thanksgiving dinner at the apartment. In between, we fixed the fence in the side yard to keep the dogs in the back yard, played in the mud, raked leaves, and Dad started yet another speaker project. On Friday, we avoided the malls, and today everyone left town after breakfast. Aunt Lena flew back to Norfolk and G&G Lam drove down to Madison. I have the next two weeks off from work, so it'll be you and me finding things to keep ourselves occupied.

This is the start of big changes in your routine for the next several months. I was telling you the other day that it was going to be Thanksgiving, and then Christmas, and then time to visit Indiana, and then time to start school, and then time to sleep in the big bed, and then Baby Sister is going come and live with us. Hopefully, we'll be able to keep up some of our good routines around naps and bed time, so that we can go through big changes with a well-rested you. And a well-rested me, for that matter.

Your first day of preschool will actually be the Monday after we get back from Indy, so hopefully the trip won't have been too crazy. You'll be enrolled in the five mornings a week class, from 8:30am to 11:30am. I'm really glad that we'll have a couple of months to get you settled there before Baby Sister arrives. I think it will be very helpful for everyone. When you were born, we didn't have any really need to get you on a schedule, or even much of a routine, and looking back I think it would have been helpful. My brain works better that way, and I think yours does, too. So I am interested to see if Baby Sister will respond well to being on a routine right off the bat. I'm a little bit nervous for your transition to school, for a couple of reasons. You're so used to one-on-one attention all day and I worry that you won't like being in a class. Also, I'm not looking forward to the massive amount of new germs that I'm sure will accompany you home. We might as well buy stock in Chlorox wipes right now.

You're a talking fool these days, and you have picked up some funny phrases. You ask for "one more last book," or "one more last thing." You are getting more and more creative in your play. You and Dad play lava monsters. You told me today that the little hole in the table was an ant hole, and that ants lived in the table. You like to run your hand around things and people, pretending that it's a spider. The other night you hooted at me and said, "I'm an owl." So I said, "Time to snuggle in your comfy nest, little owl." But when I tried that the next night, you said, "It's my comfy CRIB," in that indignant tone of voice that you've already perfected. I get things wrong on purpose sometimes, just to hear you correct me, because it cracks me up.

We watched an episode of Yo Gabba Gabba the other day about staying clean. They sang a song about tiny icky germs, which you wash away with the help of Super Soapy Pal and some magic shampoo. Which might explain the songs that you requested the other night.

In order:
the itsy bitsy spider
the icky icky spider
the clean clean spider
the just a little bit dirty spider

I also had to sing you "Madeline Over the Rainbow", after buying you the book Madeline and the Bad Hat. You have started finding a lot of cute ways to delay your bed time, which is frustrating to me. I find myself losing patience with you, and that's when you pull out the big guns of needing to use the potty or being scared. The other night, I had to send Dad in to you, and then eat ice cream and watch the BBC Pride and Prejudice to relax. I have a feeling over the next couple of weeks that Dad will be doing bedtime a lot just because I'll have you all day. It'll probably be better for everyone's sanity. And that's how much I love you--I do what's good for your sanity, even if you'd rather I just sang "Frosty the Snowman" to you another hundred times in a row.

Love,
Mom


The volcano page in the Leap Pad book:
You and Dad drawing volcanoes:
It was so warm on Thanksgiving, we played outside without out coats on!

Baby News

My mother's wish has come true: we're having a girl. Pack up the girly clothes, Auntie Erin! Ultrasound showed all good and normal things, so here's hoping she keeps up the good work being a healthy, average fetus. She's measuring right on for our March 26 due date, but I'm still guessing she'll be early, like Corbin.

This is the full profile shot. She's facing up, with her hand by her face.
This is the 3D shot. We're looking down at her face, and she's got her hands by her mouth. She looks like a little piggie in a cave, because of how the ultrasound makes her nose look big.
Creepy face view with one eye! Creepy! (I love shot like this.)

Halloween!

Happy Birthday, Adam!

Thirty-eight!

Month 32, or Some Things That Are Big

Dear Corbin,

It's been a pretty quiet month for us. Your uncle Alex headed out to spend about three months in the Persian Gulf. I managed to see him before he left, on a trip for a museum event in Norfolk. Aunt Lena is coming here for Thanksgiving, so we're all looking forward to that. I brought you home a crab stuffed animal, since you like anything with "big grabbers." You actually ended up with several new toys this month. Holy Name had their big rummage sale, so now Grandma and Grandpa have a train set at their apartment, too. You also went to Madison with them, and came back with a giant motorized back-hoe.


Most of the leaves have fallen off the tree in our front yard, but the two by the street are still hanging on. We did round one of raking in the front, which you enjoyed this year because you had your own little rake to use. You especially enjoyed raking apart the piles that we were making. Then you helped Dad take the leaves back to the raspberry patch in the wagon. You pulled the wagon yourself for a few trips, and then had fun riding with leaves covering you up to your chest. When we took your shoes and pants off later, you had the predictable amount of leaves all over your socks and underwear.

We're still working on the potty training. Some days are more successful than others. You've had a couple of nights where you want to go potty after lights out, so we need to add that to our brush teeth time in the bathroom. You do seem to enjoy deciding which underpants to wear in the morning, though, and I really laughed one day when you had an accident and then told me, "I pooped on Thomas!"

Other funny things you have said lately:
Lock me up! [while sitting in Arrow's crate]
I like to eat bacon.
Let's do it!
Can I have it? Can I have it please? I said please! [said without pauses]
Me, about the train track I put together: I'm amazing! You: You're NOT amazing.

Dad finished building your twin bed, so on Saturday we moved the couch out (into the van, to go back to Madison) and put your big bed in your room. We picked up a mattress, and I even grabbed some sheets at Target for it, so it's all put together and made up. Unfortunately, it's destroyed any sense of organization (never mind the feng shui) in your room because it's larger than the couch. We're going to have to take another couple of days to figure out how to rearrange the rest of the furniture so that everything fits again. We were going to have to do some of that in order to fit baby stuff in anyway, of course, but I didn't expect quite this much. It's always such a trial when we have to organize something. I get all excited and make great plans, and then your father mocks me, and then I get revenge by making him go to Ikea.

I think the furniture change is combining with some normal toddler sleep disruption to make life difficult, too. You're at the age where nightmares can start, and they just might have. You got all interested in storm clouds and lightning and tornadoes the other day. We have a Charlie Brown encyclopedia about the weather, and you like to page through it until you get to the picture of the tornado and the page about lightning. The first day that you brought it up, I tried to find some good storm footage on Youtube. Epic Mom Fail. You were up at 9pm that night, telling me all about how you thought there was lightning outside and asking me if tornadoes would come in the house. I don't know if you hadn't been to sleep yet, or if you actually had a bad dream, but I felt pretty stupid for encouraging you earlier.

We went to visit a second Montessori preschool. There were things we liked more than the first one, and things we liked less. Neither of those schools had an opening for you, but we'll go visit a third school in November which might. That school is close to the Sculpture Garden and the Walker Art Center, which sounds great until I start thinking that you'll grow up wanting to be a modern artist. (Although, at least if you become a sculpture artist, you'll probably learn how to weld, and that would be awesome.) I found myself watching you play trains all weekend and thinking, Too bad there isn't a preschool that emphasizes playing with trains. You would ace that curriculum.

The biggest news this month has taken place far outside of our little home sphere. Politics around the world seem to be changing very quickly, and I wonder how your adult life will be affected. So many people today are calling loudly for social and economic changes. I wonder if they will happen, and how. I am not a person who joins in movements, who goes to protests or espouses causes. I'm happy to vote for people who I believe will work toward goals that I agree with. I'm happy to email the mayor with an idea. I'm happy to email my Congressmen and -women. If you become a person who is happy to protest and march, I hope that you will do it with respect. I hope that you will remember that systems can be improved from both the outside and from the inside, from the bottom and from the top, and that meeting in the middle is a worthy outcome. And I hope that you write clever signs and that I don't have to bail you out of jail too many times.

Love,
Mom

Month 31, or With Underwear and Potties for All

Dear Corbin,

You are 31 months now and working on some pretty big milestones. You started on potty training, and you're going to be a big brother. We've also started looking into preschool for you, and building a twin bed for you. Your life is going to change a lot next year. I hope you're ready for it.

This month has been fairly routine, after all of the here-and-there of the summer. We spent Labor Day weekend doing projects around the house and yard. Dad and I finished painting the red wall in the living room, and Grandma and I moved some peony plants around in the yard. Dad waged war on some of the trees that are growing in places we don't want them. The weather was pretty warm, but it was good be getting things done. We also went shopping on that Monday and bought you real underpants. You wanted the ones with Yo Gabba Gabba on them, and the ones with Buzz Lightyear.

You're always happy to help us with chores that we're doing, especially if they involve some kind of tool. Sometimes you'll get tired of it and go off to play with something else, which is fine, too. I like the idea that you can both help us and also be independent. I know that Dad and I are both looking forward to when we're really able to do start teaching you skills instead of simply giving you experiences. I hope that you develop your own interests and hobbies, but I'll be really happy if they happen to intersect things that we like, too.

The week after Labor Day you started your adventures in potty training. You wear diapers or pull-ups in the mornings, so that Grandma and Grandpa can still take you out to breakfast and such. Then you switch to underpants in the afternoon so you can practice using the big potty all the time. So far, you're doing pretty well. You had lots of accidents at first, of course, and we did a lot of laundry that week. I actually picked up some more underpants (Thomas the Train, this time) so that we wouldn't run out so fast. Usually you tell us when you needed to potty, which was good, but sometimes it was in the middle of a walk, which meant you still ended up in wet pants. Sometimes I bug you about it, and you tell me no, no, no, and then end up with wet pants because you don't want to stop playing. I think the most frustrated I have seen you over anything to do with the potty was the time you wanted to flush it twice in a row, and I ended up having to explain to you that the water tank needs time to fill up again. I thought I might actually have to take the cover off and actually show you, but I'm glad I didn't, because Lord knows what kind of game that would have become. There have also been a couple of times that you wanted to stand up and pee, which is fine, except for your lack of aim, of course.

You seem to be okay with that part of your life changing, which is a relief. I hope that you won't fine the other changes that are coming very hard either. My plan is to put a twin bed in your room in the next month, and then by the time Baby needs to sleep in the crib, you'll have happily traded it for the big bed. I'm prepared to bribe you with Thomas the Train sheets, but I'm hoping that won't be necessary. Your bed time has started to be challenging as you start asserting that you don't want to go upstairs for your bath. You say things like, "I have to play trains!" and "Let's do it later," or simply, "I can't!" Some nights I have to resort to carrying you upstairs while you yell, "Put you down!" and "Let go of me!" Usually you manage to have some fun in the bath, once we're finally there. I suppose I should confess that there was one night that I ended your tantrum by telling you to squirt Dad with water. That may have been the night that he started taking his shirt off when he gives you a bath. I have no regrets.

Next Monday we're going to visit a preschool that you might go to starting early next year. Our friends Doug and Cindy send their son Adrian there--they've said good things about it. It's a Montessori school, which we like. I think that Montessori is great for pre-school, and I think that you would like it. I don't know what kind of elementary school we would choose yet. It's overwhelming sometimes to realize that we are already starting to be serious about your schooling. We want you to have good experiences in school, for many different reasons. Your father found it hard to be happy in school, whereas I found it somewhat easier, but both of us had our challenges. I hope that you will always tell us what you're thinking and feeling about school. I know our expectations for you will be high, but you should never interpret that to mean that we don't love you. You may, however, interpret it to mean that, "I have to play trains," will not get you out of homework any more than it gets you out of bathtime.

Mostly, I hope that you enjoy preschool so that when Baby gets here, you won't feel as though your whole life has been taken over by your sibling. That will, of course, be true (especially if you listen to your Uncle Alex's version of our childhood), but I don't want you to feel like it's true. Many parents talk about feeling that they couldn't love a second child as much as they love their first child. I tend to be more concerned that you won't feel as loved as you really are. You have so many people who love you, sweet boy, and we always will.

Love,
Mom

Month 30, or Officially 2 1/2

Dear Corbin,

You survived the camping trip! You got to stay up late and eat smores. You spent hours every day playing in the sand with your cousins. You threw many rocks into Lake Superior. You ate fish fry and got a boat ride from Uncle Mark. You became a stinky feral child who cried his way through a bath the first night back at the Cottage. Fortunately, you have recovered some veneer of civilization again since you've been home.

You donated several pints of blood to the mosquito population, of course, but that's to be expected. I said to your Dad last night that I hope you grow enough arm hair to cover up any scars left from you scratching your bug bites. You also have a lump on the right side of your neck, which we assume is bug bite, but I made you a doctor appointment anyway. You have your own explanation for it. You heard us talking about your "lump" and how it must be a "bite," and then told us that it's a heffalump bite.

You've made progress sorting out your pronouns, and your tenses are starting to appear, which we can tell because you've started narrating your life in declarative sentences. You know the difference between, "I'm running," versus, "I ran." You've also started the typical adding "ed" to anything to make it past tense; "I throwed it," or "I stealed it (about my coffee thermos)." And we keep parrotting things back to you, in order to either reinforce concepts, or correct grammar, or correct pronunciation.

Speaking of parrots, you met one the other day. Our neighbors' son had his pet parrot over at their house, and you and Dad went out in the back yard and got to see him up close. I don't know exactly what happened, but you came back in the house with almond crumbs all over your chin.

I love asking you what you think, when you ask me questions. The other day, you heard Dad's table saw going in the garage. You asked me, "What's Dad doing?" I said something like, "It sounds like he's making something. What do you think he's making?" You said, "A hot air balloon!"

In house news, we have finished painting the wall in the living room. Now we must hang up the curtains and move the furniture back, and it will all be back to normal. Maybe. Your train set was originally in a corner by that wall, but I moved it to under the window in the dining room. I had intended to move it back when we were done with the wall, but you seem to have declared public domain on the dining room because the train track now stretches over six feet of real estate. Train sets appear to share the property with gases; they expand to the size of their container.

We've gotten to the point where you have some of your books memorized. Before bedtime the other night, I was making you "read" "One Fish Two Fish." You knew almost every phrase on the first dozen pages or so, and lots of the rhymes later in the book. You also have set responses for specific events in some books, and every time we get to those pages, we have the same dialog. That's the fun of having the same books for a long time. One thing that has changed is the songs that you request from me at bedtime. It's a struggle to accommodate you sometimes, but I do my best. The songs you requested the other night were, in order:

The spider song

The great great great big spider song
The pufferfish song
The big pufferfish song
The big spiny pufferfish song
The teeny teeny teeny tiny pufferfish song
The rainbow song
Twinkle twinkle twinkle twinkle twinkle little star

You've also requested the Corbin song and the Corbin sleeps song, the Pooh song, the grasshopper song, the Cat in the Hat song, and when I've been out of town you've asked Dad for the Mama come home song. You certainly give our imaginations a work out, but there's nothing better than sitting in the rocking chair with you for a snuggle.

Love,
Mom



Cousins camping:
At the Cottage:
Wall primed and painted:
Jodi and Wan Ling over for breakfast. Jodi made you a leaf garland: