someday a grownup

dear love boy,

somehow, daddy is still going strong and seems to be very healthy. he finished his latest course of chemo in september--folfiri with avastin--and had one clean scan during chemo and one after. i'm sure he's due for another scan soon, and if i were the praying type i would be praying hard for more good news.

nana, on the other hand, is dying. last year, before our summer visit, she completed chemotherapy for lymphoma. she looked fantastic when we saw her, and you loved visiting with nana and playing in her "little room" in the basement, and you've asked to go back. now it appears that we'll be going back to pay a most-likely-last visit in the very near future.

a couple of months ago nana went for a pre-op appointment for some kind of orthopedic surgery and the doctors found a valve problem in her heart. the operation to fix the valve is risky, and at nana's age there was some disagreement in the family about whether it was a good idea for her to have it. then nana learned that the lymphoma is back, and decided not to take any more treatment for it. auntie m told t that nana has 6 months to 1 year; auntie e told k that she has 1-1.5 years. t told me she believes auntie m, thinking that autie e tends toward over-optimism, so i told daddy last night that we have to go see nana, soon. i want her to be feeling well enough for the two of you to be able to enjoy your visit together. it makes me sad to think that you might not remember her, just as i don't remember papa.

the concept of death won't be new to you. on thanksgiving, we talked about it for the first time. you brought home an art project from school--a turkey--and i said, "hey, why don't we put this in an envelope, put grandma b's address on it, and mail it to her?" to which you replied, "no, grandma s." my grandma, who died before you were born. you seem to have a thing about grandma s., and i don't know why. i haven't talked about her to you much at all--the only thing i can think of is that we have all those pictures of her as a little girl hanging along the staircase. but even when you were very, very little, you asked about her so often that i thought you might be her, reincarnated. once i asked you, "are you grandma s.?" and you said, "no, i'm just l." or course i felt silly, but there was a part of me that felt you had been coached in some way to give that answer...

anyway, i kept trying to steer your focus away from grandma s. and back to grandma b. but you became annoyed and said, "NO. GRANDMA S!" and so i told you that we couldn't write grandma s.' address on it because she doesn't have an address anymore. "why?" "because she died." and then i told you. "when somebody gets very, very old, their body stops working and they die. after that we don't get to see them anymore." "their body stops working?" "yes." "why?" "that's just how it works."

you didn't say anything else about dying that day, but the next day you said a few things were dead--just testing, or for shock value--and you asked if one of your school friends who stopped going to your school was dead. "because you don't see him anymore?" "yes." "no, he's just staying home with his daddy instead."

then yesterday, out of the blue, grandma b. had just called and you asked if it was grandma s. "no, it's grandma b." "grandma s. died?" "yes." "why?" "because when people get very, very old, their body stops working and they die." "are you going to die?" "yes, someday." "am i going to die?" "yes, but not for a long, long, long time. you have your whole life to live." "is daddy going to die?" "yes." "even m. and j.?" (your school friends.) you looked a little bit worried, so i tried to reassure you. "when you are very, very old, you will have had a full life and you will be tired. you will be ready, then." and i hoped that everything i said would turn out to be true. i hope you will live a long time and feel satisfied when it comes time to say goodbye.

i wish i could give you a sibling. i think you'd like a sister. daddy and i argued about it recently. i would jump over any obstacle i can think of if he were in it together with me, but he is not. you overheard us, and later you gave me your doll and said, "here, mommy, you can have this new baby."

tonight at bedtime, you told me that your bed is too small. "i wish it was as comfortable as your bed. i wish my bed had two places. then i'd have room for a girl." this was, of course, just after storytime. we'd read mrs. picasso's polliwog, and i read the note to you inscribed by my friend george, the author. he wrote that he hoped one day i'd be able to read the book to a little girl or boy of my own. you said, "but we don't have a girl." "no," i said,"but we do have a wonderful little boy to read it to." "maybe someday i'll read it to my little girl," you answered. "because someday i'm going to be a grownup." "yes." "and i'll be able to use the oven." "yes." "when i'm grown up we can all use the oven together." "that sounds like fun." "and one day the little girl will grow up and she'll be able to use the oven, too." "yes, she will."

i want this for you, my sweet thing. i hope you get your little girl. and i hope she grows all the way up for you and that the two of you cook things together in your oven--that you will still be living in that nice, sweet, storybook world.

conversations

dear lovey bear,

a few days ago you told me you wanted to put me in the trash. it was in the morning before school and work. you said it with a smile on your face, but you were a little upset with me about putting you to bed without a story the night before and this was your way of letting me know.

a conversation we had tonight...
you: i want to go to the moon.
me: what will you do when you get there?
you: turn on my lights and engines.
you meant in your spaceship.

hello oedipus!

dear love boy,

tonight i heard this conversation from the computer room:

you: that's his girlfriend.
dad: do you have a girlfriend?
you: yeah.
dad: really? who's your girlfriend?
you: mommy.
dad: uh-uh. mommy is MY girlfriend.
you: oh.

just so you know, i love being your girlfriend. and i love being daddy's, too.

no dogs

dear sweet boy,

a few nights ago we read harry the dirty dog before bedtime. on the page with the picture of people eating in a cafe, you asked me what the sign on the window said. "no dogs," i read.

tonight we read the book again. on the page with the cafe picture, you pointed to the sign and said, "that says, 'dogs cannot come in here.'"

"right, it says, 'no dogs,'" i said.

"but he can go in there," you said, pointing to harry. it was one of those statements that is more like a question.

"no. they won't let him go in because he is a dog."

you frowned. "but he's hungry."

the book had, indeed, just told us that.

"yes."

you frowned some more.

"dogs cannot go in there," you said.

i felt you coming up against the world around you, pressing your face against the glass and not approving.

this is so clear to you: when someone is hungry, shouldn't we let him come and eat, even if he is a dog?

surprises and sweetness

dear bumble boo,

tonight in your bath you asked me to put some shampoo on your hand. nothing unusual about that, we do it all the time. shampoo on your hand and then you help wash yourself. except tonight instead of washing yourself you popped the glob of shampoo right into you mouth. of course, i went right after it with my finger to get as much out as possible before you swallowed, and you screamed, as much from the terror of my quick reflex as the unexpected bad taste of the shampoo. i was (and still am) so surprised, because you very rarely do things like that, and i now have to reassess some of the assumptions i've made about what type of supervision you need both in the bath and out.

you, my dear, are very funny. the other day you were talking to our cat. and then in a short, brief monologue, as if you were a talk show host introducing a guest to your studio audience you rattled off theatrically, "he likes milk, he likes salmon, he likes yogurt..."

you are so enamored of the cats, especially the little one who will sit with you at breakfast and dinner (because he knows you will feed him treats), and who lets you rest your head on him while he sleeps. you used to offer them your books to read, but now you prefer to share your meals, and show them the consideration that others show to you, such as breaking a bagel into little bites before you offer them. "here, kitty, little pieces!"

your guitar playing is really coming along, as are your rock star moves. you seem to be rehearsing for a future on stage, possibly fronting a band. from what i can tell, you will be very good at it and extremely entertaining. keep working on that strumming--i've seen a lot of improvement lately with your ability to sustain your strumming while singing a song (such as five little monkeys).

there is so much sweetness in you right now. i don't know if it's your age or just who you are. tonight when i buckled you into your car seat after our trip to Lucky and Longs, you grabbed me around the neck and pulled me in for the most delightful kisses and giggles. delicate, butterfly kisses, buoyantly delivered.

a quick catchup

dear sweet thing,

about 3 weeks ago you played your first song on guitar. strumming and singing teddy bear teddy bear.

about 10 days ago, you tattled for the first time. i asked who bit you. you said jack. then you said your teacher's name, and "i'm sorry." at school the next day, your teachers confirmed that the biter was indeed jack.

on saturday, you me and daddy were lying on the bed in our chicago hotel room. you started singing the alphabet. you sang us the whole thing (except xyz, because you love w so much you like to just say that one again and again). we were surprised. knew you knew a lot of it, but not the whole song!

today--you are repeating everything. sentences.

yesterday at the aquarium you pointed out a helicopter to ellie and told her helicopter. she couldn't believe you knew that word.

mostly, though. you are the sweetest boy. i love your kisses. your little pucker and kiss is the best.

dear charlie brown,

you are growing up to be a little boy with a mind of your own. this is no surprise. you have many opinions, and want to do things yourself, or at least dictate how they should be done. here are some of the latest things about you...

• you love swings. whenever we leave the house, you immediately head in the direction of the park. you like to try every swing available, switching back and forth between them at least once, and often more.
  
• you can climb up the play structure at the park and go down the slide by yourself with just a little supervision.
  
• books, books, books. you are crazy in love with them.
  
• this past week you have started to hug me alot. you just come up and press against me and hug my knees. you have also started kissing my cheek, not just blowing kisses anymore.
  
• it's pretty much impossible for you to eat without getting so dirty that we have to change your clothes. even with a bib, and even with a towel on your lap.
  
• a month ago you were obsessed with elmo. you have gotten over elmo and are now obsessed with ernie. and sometimes with cookie monster.
  
• you love apple juice and cookies (we only give you fruit juice sweetened fig bars, and even those are reserved as treats)
• last week at school you told your teachers, "i want to go outside". they were a bit shocked to hear you make such a clear and complete declaration.
  
• you want very much to be able to put on your own shoes and socks. you try often, but it's just too soon.
  
• the cats now participate in our bedtime ritual. you like having them in the room during storytime, and then when it's time to sleep you like them to leave.
  
• when the cats meow outside your door in the morning, you imitate them. i hear you through the baby monitor--you are not saying "meow" like you do when we read books, but instead you are trying to make the exact sound the cat is making, just as you do with the crows when we see them. you imitate and you say, "kitty cat".
  
• your favorite song is old macdonald. we have it on cd, by ella fitzgerald. you want to hear it every time we get in the car, often more than once. at night, you ask me to sing it to you as a lullaby. i remember when you were very little and i sang to you, that was the first song i could tell you really liked.