Tuesday, April 17, 2007
 Caleb, you are 18 months old now. Pretty much I think if you make it to the age of two it will be a miracle. I used to watch mothers of children like you and think, "They must be bad parents the way their kids get into such mischief. They're probably neglecting them or something." Then I had you. And I don't think they're bad parents anymore. Mostly I regret ever thinking such a thing of those people. I am a busy mother and you do have way too much unsupervised time on your hands so it might be because I neglect you but I do my best to take care of you. Really I do. I read to you and sing to you and take you to the park and build blocks with you and tickle you and snuggle you and I gate off all unsafe areas and lock all unsafe cupboards and put up all unsafe items. But still you seem to have a knack for finding danger and "playing with fire" so-to-speak and even as I type this I'm considering deleting the "playing with fire" bit just because I'm afraid that just because I said it, you'll start doing it. You run me ragged, keep me on my toes, exhaust me, bring me to tears with all the trouble you seem to find and it's because of you that I seriously expect Child Protective Services to show up on my doorstep and take you away. And the only relief I find in such a terrible thought is that it would only be a short matter of time before they'd bring you back, their own hair falling out and their eyes bugging out, nervously twitching and trembling with fear as they hand you over to me, apologizing profusely for ever doubting me. You are hell on wheels, a Tazmanian Devil, every mother's nightmare, a holy terror.
 Not a day goes by that I don't find you in some kind of mischief. Yesterday you were finding great pleasure running around the upstairs with the plunger. I just bought the big boys a bunch of posters for their new army themed bedroom. They weren't cheap. I spent a bunch of time hanging them up and adding the final touches to their room. I was so proud of myself. And in a matter of minutes you were ripping the posters off the wall and doing your best to tear them to pieces. You are banned from the big boys' bedroom forever. You unload the freshly folded laundry that I've just put away and throw it all over the house. You unroll the toilet paper and fill up the toilet. You suck on the tubes of toothpaste until your mouth is blue. You suck on the computer cables and I have no idea how you haven't been electrocuted. You pour bucketfuls of water on the bathroom floor every time you have a bath. You are forbidden to have any sort of cup in the bathtub ever again. You dump the crayons all over the floor. The few times you've gotten ahold of the scissors you run with them. You dump the "play rice" on the floor. The other day you were playing in the sink. You dropped a cup on the floor and instead of forgetting about it, you decided to fill it up from where you were, pouring water all over the kitchen floor. We can't leave the kitchen table uncleared because you throw the dishes on the floor and dump the food all over the table and basically leave behind a major disaster. You climb on everything and then fall off, always banging your head on something. You love to suck on all things poisonous like my deoderant, my lotion, my perfume, nail polish, shoe polish, medicine bottles, just about anything you shouldn't suck on. You climb in the bath with your clothes on, fish in the toilet, and throw our valuables in the trash can.
 You pick on the babies, terrorize the big boys and bully everyone else inbetween. The other day I was typing and had Jericho on my lap with you by my side. All of the sudden Jericho was in hysterics and when I looked down he had teeth marks on the back of his fat little hand from you. About a week ago the boys were looking for a gamecube paddle. When Daddy told them you had it, all three of the big boys got up, knowing it would take all three of them to muscle it away from you. You whack pacifiers out of babies' mouths and find great pleasure in knocking down other children your age. Last week I made banana bread. Halfway through the mixing process you woke up from your nap and started right in on distracting me with some sort of mischief. As a result, I mis-measured the flour and ended up having to triple the batch. So I had a ton of banana bread on the counter cooling and what did you do? You decided to pour dirty dishwater all over the banana bread leaving me with a lot of dirty dishes and not many muffins to eat. And probably hardest of all is trying to take you outside (or anywhere for that matter.) You love to run in the street and think it's the most fun to run away from me. The other day I had both babies in my arms. I'm not sure why I thought I could take you outside and hold the twins at the same time. I think I was feeling guilty for keeping you cooped up in the house on such a nice day. Whatever I was thinking I took you outside with my arms full of babies. You ran a few circles in the backyard and then decided it would be much more fun to run in the street, especially because my arms were too full to grab you and I think you knew it. After several attempts at convincing you not to go in the street I had to leave one of the babies laying outside on the lawn all alone while I wrestled you into the house where you sat kicking and screaming at me for cooping you up once again. When I returned to get the baby from the grass several cars were driving by very slowly, looking at the poor baby left abandoned on the front lawn and wondering where the heck its mother was. At that point I sat on the floor with the three of you babies on my lap, wanting so desperately to cry but I couldn't. I was beyond tears, half knowing it wouldn't fix anything and half just numb to the chaos you've brought to my life. So I ate a candybar instead and almost felt better, almost.
 But I'll tell you what Caleb. Despite all the tears you've made me want to cry and all the candy bars I've eaten because I couldn't cry and all the almost heart attacks you've caused me and all the frustration and hair loss and nervous twitches I have because of you, I still melt when you sidle up beside me with your silkie in tow and your thumb in your mouth. And I love it when you bring me a book and sit quietly in my lap, enthralled with the pictures and the turning pages. And my heart leaps with joy when you get a hold of the phone and you don't call 911 but rather restrain yourself by repeatedly telling yourself "no, no, no." And we all love you for all of the trouble you cause because it gives us something to laugh about like when you "Rarrrr" at your friend Darlene in the middle of Sacrament meeting. My life wouldn't be complete without you in it, Caleb and while it might be a miracle if you make it to two, I know it's a miracle that Heavenly Father sent me you. I love you!
  
 
 
You're a mystery, you're from outer space, you're every minute of my everyday. And I can't believe, uh that I'm your [mom] and I get to kiss you baby just because I can.--Michael Buble
posted by Shana # 4:15 PM 
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