2 Years 1 Month

Dear North,

I'm afraid you have reached the dreaded age that people affectionately refer to as the terrible twos. Anything and everything can transform our adorable you into a mess of tears and screaming. Still, we continue to take you out in public. Such gluttons for punishment we are.

Your dad and I love this age though (aside from those previously mentioned moments when you are a raging a-s-s-h-o-l-e). For example, we went out to dinner at a mildly fancy bistro last week. I had packed a big bag of food and two drinks for you, plus a pacifier to use as a last resort. We would never let you continuously scream and cry in a restaurant; rather we try to stuff food and drink into your scream hole and if it comes to it, take you outside. But all my preparation was for naught. You were the cutest guy in the place and so social. Every time someone walked by the table, you greeted them with a boisterous "hiiiiii," accompanied by a friendly wave. And when I say every time, I mean every time. It was really cute the first ten times, but it did get slightly stale around the twentieth. Still, when I thanked the manager for everything, he thanked me for bringing you in and gave us a free dessert. It gives me the idea to take you everywhere I go and demand free things because you are with me.

We've been camping two weekends in a row so far this season and it is already so much easier than last year. Finally, you are at the age, where we can sit back on our lazy haunches and keep an eye on you, rather than having to chase you around constantly. Now you can somewhat understand the perimeter you must stay within. But every now and then, I'll watch you when you think my back is turned. You'll start inching your way into the no-go zone, turning back to smirk at whoever might be watching. It's hard to reprimand you when you're such a little devil, but we manage.

You have developed somewhat of a curiosity for bugs and worms, although often these moments end up in bug fatalities. Last weekend, during our camping trip, the cicada nymphs emerged from the soil and began zombie climbing up all the trees surrounding our site. Your dad noticed them first and drew our attention to it. You were curious, but needed someone else to touch it first before you would. I appreciate your wary curiosity and hope that you maintain it until you learn some more about this world. Those particular cicadas won't be returning for another 13 years, which means you will be fifteen by the time you can poke one again. I hope you still ask me to do it first though.

2 Years

Dear North,

I guess I'm supposed to do a recap of your last year since this letter is representing your milestone birthday of two years. To be honest, I can't remember much beyond what has happened in the last month. Anything beyond that is snapshots in my head of a very different person than the little guy you currently are. I can barely remember a time when you couldn't walk. Now that you're talking more, the months you spent whimpering and pointing to communicate are foggy. To take it back to the very beginning when the nurse plopped a tiny six pound you on my belly is almost inconceivable.

I remember those early days were exhausting, blissful, hilarious, frustrating and the best of my life. I wouldn't call them hard exactly, but this motherhood gig has made me dig deeper than any other challenge I've faced to date. I hear other moms say they are the best mom they can be. But I have to be honest and admit that there are times when I know I could be better. I could be more patient. I could be more selfless. I could try harder. I know that you will push me to be better. I just want you to know that as you are growing and learning, so am I.

None of this is to say that I'm not proud of the job we are doing with you. I am quite proud and hope that a tiny bit of your awesomeness is a result of our efforts. Mostly though, you were simply born that way. You are a fantastic weirdo, which is all we could have ever hoped for. I hope that you never lose those qualities that make you so special, especially if it's to appease other people. Having you around gives me permission to be silly again and stop taking myself so seriously. You make me take a step back and appreciate the wonderful life we are all blessed to share, even if some days are better than others. So thanks to you little man for giving me a daily dose of perspective on how to make my time left on this great Earth of ours a pleasure.

Now on to you, my silly bean.

1 year 11 months

Dear North,

You have become a biter, a friendly biter, but a biter nonetheless. What seems like an innocent snuggle quickly turns into, "oww, you bit me!" That's followed by a lot of thinking about what to do about these love bites. Should we bite you back to show you that it hurts? Or should we lead by example and explain to you that people do not bite, even if they are adorable puppies. One thing is for certain, your first girlfriend is going to hear all about the multiple times you have now bitten me on my buttocks. But then I will show her this video and she will forget all about what grossed her out a second ago.

Speaking of your future partners, that person will find a great mate in you. Your dad has already started your all purpose handyman education, which seems to be a rare talent these days. While your ma, on the other hand, has started your domestic training. When you're not busy drilling and hammering, you help me bake bread, vacuum, pick up and wipe every surface in the house. Sweet Jesus, you love to wipe. Some toddlers steal cookies, but you steal wipes out of the diaper bag so you can clean. I don't know where you learned this odd behavior...

But I do know that you gotta start them young.

Ikea did not pay me to say this (call me Ikea!)

This is what it looks like after you get home from Ikea. Normally, there are more disposable Allen Wrenches involved (speaking of which, does anyone have a use for them after the fact?)

North and Mr. Foot try out his new craft table. Mr. Foot liked Ikea a lot and his favorite part was the Swedish meatballs, hence the diaper.

Our pantry storage was lacking when we moved in and Dave has made it his mission to find creative ways to add more storage space not just in the pantry, but everywhere in the house. Ikea's floating shelves work well to take advantage of our high ceilings, while still keeping items within easy reach. (Seriously, Ikea, are you dialing my number yet?)

I've never understood the modern fixation with huge kitchens, that is, unless your last name is Duggar. But I suppose counter top space is a nice thing to have. We (Dave) installed this little rack under our magnetic knife storage on the side of our oven to house vitamins and medications that previously dominated sacred counter space. Vitamins never looked so delicious.

Our back splash is a work in progress until we figure out the counter top situation (probably concrete). But we needed a little something there to tide us over in the meantime. Now when I stand at the sink washing dishes and gazing upon my sweet little succulent plants, a smile stretches across my face.

1 year 10 months

Dear North,

There were some big achievements in the last month. You're demanding various food stuff like cookies, crackers and juice throughout the day using those words, which is exciting and frightening. I admit to previously knowing what you wanted when I heard you making your puppy noise, but I attempted to distract you until you forgot about whatever carbohydrate you were begging for in that moment. But now you know the word for those things and we can't pretend to not understand you. Or you might just take matters into your own hands...

So now that you can open the pantry door, you have very little need for your parents. If it weren't for our ability to locate hidden cookies and open the refrigerator, you might just leave home with a sack tied to a stick thinking you are ready for the world.

You currently hang out in the pantry, squatting on top of carton of mason jars and spend your time relocating the condiments to different shelves. Half of our pantry storage is now crammed into the upper shelves you haven't figured out how to access yet. Eventually, you spot the cracker box, grab it and hunt down the parental unit while repeating over and over "CA-CKU? CA-CKU?..." You can easily open the box, but when you bring it to me, I give you one. I like to think that at least you brought it to me to ask for one rather than tearing into it and creating cracker mayhem in the process. But I don't think it's about the food, I think you're just damn impressed with yourself for being able to say what you want in that particular minute. Nonetheless, our house is still covered in cracker crumbs all the time.

Sometimes, I hear you over the baby monitor right before you fall asleep going through your repertoire of words. I think you know that someone can hear you. Maybe you are looking for rescue from your crib. Daddy? Mommy? Puppy?

I love to call home from work and be able to talk to you. Since your vocabulary is still limited, I say words and you repeat them back to me or I ask you what something says and you make that sound. No matter how my day is going, hearing your tiny voice makes my heart leap out of my chest. But nothing is like seeing you say words in person, with your chest swelled up with pride and a twinkle in your eye.

Oh and by the way, here is evidence of the daddy and me matching flannel phenomenon.

1 Year 9 Months

Dear North,

The excitement of the holiday season is behind us and we are left with a house brimming with toys. Although you didn't seem to understand Christmas per say, you sure enjoyed ripping into presents.

In the winter, most animals slow down and hunker down for the chilly months. But you are not one of those mammals. Being stuck indoors has been a challenge. We have removed the gates, excepting the one accessing the stairs and you now have free range to roam and explore. It is rare to see you sit still, especially when you could be rooting for carbs in the pantry or flushing the toilet, two of your most recent obsessions.

Hide and seek is one of your favorite pastimes, except you have a hilarious twist to the rules. When you are the hider, which is most of the time, the seeker is expected to ignore you staring straight at them smiling like a mad man. No, instead they must look for you in ridiculous places while repeating "where are you North?" until you emerge from your hiding spot and get closer and closer. Eventually, you put your face right in front of their face. That's when the seeker is allowed to say "there you are!" and everyone falls into a pile of giggles.

You're finally over a bad cough that lasted a week or so. I've never seen such an unhappy puppy. Of course, during those sick days we gave you whatever you wanted. By day three you were surviving on graham crackers, juice and honey. Entire days were spent watching youtube videos on the computer because that's what you wanted. I'd say you enjoyed calling the shots for a few days. Then you started to feel better and your parents turned on you.

We are still dealing with the fallout, of course. Your dad told me that you followed him around the house throwing mobile tantrums the other day. You threw yourself down and let out a cry. Your dad left the room. You looked up, realized no one was watching your awesome display of dismay, you pressed the pause button on your tantrum setting and picked yourself up to go in search of an audience. Once you found him, you immediately resumed the gruesome production for his viewing pleasure. I hope to get it on video one day. Here are a couple of moments we have been able to capture on video.

Merry Christmas