March 19, 2009

Dear Sarah,

A lot of big grown-up words have been bantered around at dinner time recently. We've been talking about speech therapy, early intervention, student-teacher ratios, preschool. We have had what seems like a lot of decisions to make about stuff - important stuff - and we're (read: I'm) obsessing over them. It used to be that the biggest things I needed to decide about included whether or not you had outgrown your 6-12 month clothes or whether it was the right time to introduce hummus. Now we're having to make big parent decisions and I'm feeling stressed out about it! You started with early intervention speech therapy this month and while you completely refuse to actually speak to your speech therapist, I think it is going pretty well. You like to play with her but you won't talk. You talk to everyone who comes to the house, the post man, the dog walker, the garbage man. But your speech therapist - not so much. You are so stubborn. You also go to early intervention play group once a week. We have gone once and while you refused to participate in the song (it was a little bit weird, involved quite a bit of flapping about so I can't really blame you for being suspicious) and you wanted nothing to do with the pom pom shaking exercise you were all about the play kitchen and the running on foam squares. I would call that another success. Anyway, it is all really good and it is keeping us busy.

This month we have finally started to have a change in the weather. You can tell that because in the final photo on this newsletter you are wearing a hat out in the snow getting ready to build a snow man with Daddy. In the first photo you are running pell mell down the bike path out on a walk with Mommy, the babies and Auntie Lizzie. We like the walking thing much better than the snow man building thing. I am amazed at your stamina on walks. Once we reach the bike path you start frantically signing ALL DONE! ALL DONE! ALL DONE! so that you can get out of your stroller and RUN RUN RUN. You run for such a long time, right through puddles, mud, off the path . . . you are usually only deterred by nasty things that you like to pick up and put in your carriage. Like trash. And moldy sticks. I try to throw them out as fast as you put them in but you are a speedy little bugger so typically we arrive back home with a variety of charming little souvenirs in the stroller.

This month you also got your second episode of the stomach bug. It was AWFUL. You threw up for days, were completely not yourself and spent hour upon hour on the couch watching episode upon episode of The Little People. Shoot me now. One night you would throw up, we would get you up, bathe you, put new pjs on you, change your sheets and put you back in your crib only to have you throw up again. It was like Groundhog Day only with vomit. Lots of vomit. You did recover, finally, and have been - knock on every hard wood surface I can reach!- healthy ever since. Thank goodness.

You are loving your Shamu puppet, your barking dog, your stringing game and your stacking cups. You are saying more words every day and add at least one animal noise a week. You engage with the world in different ways every day. You look out the window and see things, recognize things and make connections. You remember things from hour to hour, day to day. You remember where to look for things that you have hidden. You noticed that your snow man melted. You can tell if your pasta hasn't been heated appropriately and ask for it to be "made hot." We continuously get glimpses of the person that you are becoming and it is awesome.

Perhaps the most exciting new development this month is that you have started to engage with your brothers. They are learning how to do more new and interesting things and spend more of their day upright and I think that makes it easier for you to engage with them. You bring them toys when they are fussing, you will rock them in their car seats and I have seen you holding their hands when you are all in the back of the car together.

I must admit, I have anguished over the effects of the babies on your life. I worry about your displacement, how you will remember this time, IF you'll remember it, will you feel neglected, etc. etc. etc. What I am trying to remember is that if we didn't have the boys and we didn't put you through the complete upheaval that we did, they you would grow up as the only child in this house. This way, regardless of what happens to me, what happens to Daddy, you will always have each other and that gives me a measure of peace. It is hard (every day it can still be hard) in a way that I didn't anticipate at all. Having to make decisions about which one of you to go to ten, twenty, a thousand times each day is draining and makes me do a whole lot of soul searching. However, the other day, five months and one day into this whole "three under two" endeavor, it all seemed worth it. You asked to pick Owen up. You sat on my lap and held him so kindly, so tenderly and it was just amazing. When I thought that you might be getting bored, as you were squirming a little, you started frantically signing "more, more more" so I repositioned you and you put your little hand on his cheek and were stroking him. It was quite unbelievable. Thank you for helping me find such peace in our new normal.

Love,
Mama