Dear Patrick,
- We watched the Disney movie “Frozen” this month and you and I love the soundtrack, which your Dad tolerates. We play it through his speakers in the office and I spin you around in the rolly-chair or in my arms and we sing at the top of our lungs. Over and over..."Let it go!"
- You and I played a game where we made Coop “the monster” and our mission was to run from the couch to the bed without the monster catching us. Poor Coop. He just wanted to be in whatever room we chose, so he followed us smiling and wagging his tail as we ran screaming back and forth around the house. I humor most of the games you want me to play, but this one I actually enjoyed even though I was totally out of breath!
- I went to Macon this month alone - without you or your father. It was Omi’s birthday and Pop threw a great party! I have a beautiful photo of your grandparents from that evening at Natalia’s restaurant that I’m going to frame. And even though it wasn’t my birthday, it was a real gift to me to be able to spend time with two of my favorite people. We had a couple of really nice days together for which I’m very grateful.
- In three and a half years, sleep for you has never been a problem that we couldn’t solve with a pat on the back or an extra song. But this month, your father and I had to enforce rules we never felt needed to be created: 1) lights off. 2) Close eyes and lie down. 3) Stay in bed. Rule # 3 actually proved to be the hardest. It sounds so simple but after finding you asleep (hidden) in our room, then on the living room couch, then slung over the arm of the chair in your room, and then curled into the tiniest ball on the kitchen bar-stool (yes, seriously!) -- it became obvious that your bed was no longer your first choice. So, we had a talk with you...many talks actually (and some tears too), but after an intense week and a half, everything now seems to be back on track. You might wake in the middle of the night and ask for water or because the zipper of your PJs got stuck (yep, that was reason to yell at 4:00am), but you go back to sleep now. And the magic bunny clock has begun to help too.
- We introduced the idea of “the pillow” to you six month ago when you got your big boy bed, but you had no need or patience for it. Then suddenly on 3/22, we offered you the pillow and you basically asked where it had been your whole life. I love to watch the monitor and see your head nestled in a cloud of fluff.
- This was also a month that we discovered the extent of your tantrum abilities, or as I’ve come to see it: a complete and utter loss of control from your emotions in which you disappear and a crazed lunatic, void of reason, takes your place. Considering the horror stories I’ve heard about other toddlers, we should happy - proud even - that we can basically count your major meltdowns on one hand. But oh boy these were doozies that required real stamina: 1) you wanting to put the battery toy in the bathtub, 2) your father asking you to sit in your car seat in order to leave from Nana and Papa’s house, 3) the morning I ate your waffle after you said I could, and 4) your Dad shaking off your penis after a pee before you could do it yourself. These were all major throw-downs in the Byrd house, and ultimately situations that couldn't be fixed with reason - we just had to let the crazy flow and ride it out. We also worked to remember the basic rule of tantrum 101, which is to flat out ignore. Ultimately, your father and I became deaf and blind for a week, but it worked.
- I know there were many wonderful, beautiful things that happened this month, but I haven’t captured much more than the above notes. Your father and I have focused primarily on our battle plan with sleep and tantrums. Till this month - never have the cliches about toddlers made so much sense.
I love you, my little crazed caveman!
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