Connor Quotes

Dear Connor,

Funny, sweet and cute things you said this month:

-While you were in the bathroom, I asked you if you were done pooping. You said, "When I'm done pooping, I'm done." Makes sense.

-I was out with you and MuiMui one afternoon when the stroller brake broke and wouldn't unlock. I couldn't get the stroller to move and when I told you this, you yelled at the stroller wheels, "Come on! You can do it!"

-While Lila was kneeling, you put your hand behind her and said, "I protect her."

-You were running around the playground at school and shouted to your teacher, "I'm going to marry you! I love you!" You also told her that you two are going to get married in a hospital. Given how accident-prone you are, that's a good location!

-We were cooking dinner together and while I was chopping the broccoli, you told me, "I like cooking with you. You my friend, Mommy."

-You were sitting at your table and started shouting, "I'm in my office! I'm making money! Who wants money? Mommy, I have money for you!"

Love,
Mom

Why?

Dear Connor,

You have officially reached the "Why?" stage. Bring on the endless questioning!

Love,
Mom

Back to the ER

Dear Connor,

Seriously?! Just three days after you had that traumatic fall at your birthday party, you had to go back to the emergency room today to be treated for *another* injury. I was about to pick you up from school this past Wednesday and was just a few blocks away when I received a call from your teacher. You had collided with another boy while running around on the playground. You seemed fine but you had a huge bump next to your right eye and your teacher thought we should have it checked out by a doctor right away. Seriously?! You got hurt again?!

Daddy came home from work and took you straight to the hospital (luckily, the fact that we'd just taken you to the ER a few days earlier didn't prompt them to call Child Services!). Fortunately, the doctor said you were all right. You had a pretty bad black eye but no scratches on the eyeball, permanent head damage or anything serious--unless you count the continual fraying of my nerves. *sigh*

Your new shiner. We should probably keep that helmet on you 24/7.

Love,
Mom

First Day of Nursery School

Dear Connor,

Happy first day of nursery school! 

Your school is in the same building that your summer camp was in, your teacher is the same teacher you had during summer camp, several of your classmates were in the same camp class as you and yet, today was still in adjustment for you. I don't know if it's because it's been three weeks since camp ended but you cried when I dropped you off this morning, asked me to stay with you and said you wanted to go home. When I picked you up in the afternoon, you said, "I missed you. I wanted you." Aww, sweetie :( I hope you enjoy school better tomorrow.

Love,

Mom

Birthday Scare

Dear Connor,

Today started out innocently enough. It was sunny and warm, perfect weather for the outdoor carousel birthday party Daddy and I had organized for you. We arrived at the carousel in the morning, set up the decorations (this year's theme: your favorite TV show, Team Umizoomi) and rode the carousel while your friends arrived. Over the next hour, you had a great time riding the carousel over and over again, playing with your buddies and watching the boats sail by on the nearby river.

The party came to an abrupt halt, though, when you suddenly fell backward off of one of the picnic table benches and hit your head on the gravel-covered ground beneath it. I didn't see it happen. I was putting your baseball cap away in your diaper bag when I heard you crying in pain. I turned, saw you sitting on the bench next to Daddy, ran over to you and immediately felt my body go numb when I saw how badly you'd been hurt. Daddy was pressing a bunch of napkins on your head where you had bumped it and when he moved them, I saw blood oozing out of your head. Your head just kept bleeding, even after several minutes, and there were bright red drops all over the backside of your shirt. I was shocked and terrified and I really don't know how I managed to not pass out. Instead, I somehow sprang into protective mom mode, hugging and kissing you and telling you that you were going to be okay, that you just got a little boo-boo, that you were being so brave. And you really were brave. You were visibly shaken and wanted me to hold you, but you stopped crying right away and answered all of the questions Daddy and I asked you (you may have wondered why we chose that moment to ask you to recite the alphabet; we wanted to see if you could still think and talk clearly after such a big hit to the head).

To our horror, the blood kept coming out of the wound no matter how much pressure we put on it, so your friend Marcus's dad called 911. In a matter of minutes, a big ambulance with lights flashing drove through the park and right up to the party (the paramedics just so happened to be getting lunch at a nearby food festival when they received the call). When you saw it, you were equally amazed (you get so excited when you see ambulances and we told you this one had come just for you) and scared (you, understandably, did not want to go to the hospital). The paramedics checked your head, wrapped it in gauze and said a doctor should look at the wound, so you and Daddy got in the back of the ambulance and went to the nearest ER while I stayed back with MuiMui.

I told your friends that you were going to be okay and that they could go back to riding the carousel--and then I burst into tears. I get so scared any time you get hurt and this was by far the worst injury you'd ever had. I couldn't get the image of all the blood out of my mind and kept checking my phone for any updates from Daddy. The only thing that gave me any comfort was the fact that while we had been waiting for the ambulance, I had been talking to you and when you saw a helicopter fly overhead, you pushed my head to the side so that you could see it. So you couldn't have been in that much pain if you were still that interested in the helicopter, right?

And thank GOD, it turned out that you really weren't that hurt. An hour after you and Daddy left for the hospital, I was sitting on the very bench you had fallen off of and staring at the boats on the water when you seemingly came out of nowhere. I didn't think you'd be back for awhile but there you were, running toward me with a big smile on your face as if nothing had even happened. I almost burst into tears from the relief of seeing you be your usual, happy self. Daddy told me that the doctor had checked you out and said the wound on your head was only superficial, that you didn't even need any stitches and that you were fine; we just had to keep the cut clean. "Whew" doesn't even begin to express how glad I was to hear that!

So the party picked up right where we had left off! A few of your friends had gone home while you were at the hospital but most of them were still at the party and we all hopped onto the carousel for a special birthday ride during which the operator personally wished you a happy birthday and got everyone to sing "Happy Birthday" to you. Then after that, it was time for cake!

You were playful, silly and active for the rest of the afternoon and had a great time at your party. On our way home, I asked you how you felt and you responded, "I feel fixed." Oh man, you are nothing if not resilient! This was actually the third time you hit your head so hard that it started to bleed and amazingly, all three incidents turned out to be minor flesh wounds, so I'm pretty convinced that your head *must* be made of steel. Let's not keep testing its limits, though, okay?

Love,
Mom

You're Three Years Old!

Dear Connor,

Happy birthday, sweetheart! You are 3 years old now and still the coolest little boy I know. Every day, you continue to amaze me with your intelligence, your curiosity, your boundless energy and, above all, your kindness and affection. This was an important year for you because you became a big brother--and you have been an incredible brother! From the second Daddy and I brought your baby sister home from the hospital, you have been so loving toward her. You like to make her laugh and comfort her when she cries. You share your toys with her, even when I know you don't particularly want to share them. You like to hold her in your lap and give her hugs. You call her your best friend and you always look out for her, like the time you placed a hand on her stomach when she was crying and said, "I protect her."

You are also so sweet to me. You always tell me that you love me. You say that I look pretty, even if I've just gotten out of bed, haven't brushed my hair and am still wearing my pajamas. If I stub my toe or get hurt in some way, you say, "Don't be sad, Mommy, it will be okay" and kiss my boo-boo. You know my favorite color is purple, so you draw purple drawings for me at school and when we went to a birthday party at a gymnastics studio last month, you gathered all of the purple hula hoops laying around on the floor and brought them over to me.

I'm not going to lie, though. As wonderful as this past year was, it was also incredibly challenging because your terrible twos have been epic. You are a good kid but you can also be unbelievably stubborn, rebellious and defiant. You definitely like to test your limits and turn a lot of things (like brushing your teeth or getting into the stroller when it's time to leave the bookstore) into huge battles. And oh my god, the tantrums you throw when you don't get your way. They are loud. Hysterical. Frequent. By now, I'm sure most of our neighbors are well acquainted with your blood-curdling screams. And you are well acquainted with the timeout corner.

Hopefully, the worst of that behavior is behind us (Many parents say the threes are even worse than the twos, but they're just kidding, right? Right?). And I love you so much, no matter how crazy you drive me. I love how happy and excited you get about things, how silly and playful you are, how friendly you are, how you sing to yourself while you are playing with your toys and how you dance with abandon when you hear your favorite songs. I love cooking dinner with you (you stand on a stool next to me at the kitchen counter and ask to help with everything), chasing you around the playground and doing the goofiest things to make you laugh your infectious laugh. And I especially love watching you grow up into the terrific little person you are becoming. Happy birthday, Connor! I love you!

Love,
Mom

Bag It

Dear Connor,

The good: Today was another accident-free day. I've been putting you on the potty every hour and if you have to go in between those hourly intervals, you tell me so that I can take you to the bathroom. Great job!

The bad: While I was in the bathroom, you and your sister were playing in her room and I heard you laughing hysterically. What's so funny?, I thought. I wonder what game they're playing. It's so nice that they're having fun together. My state of amusement was shattered, however, as soon as I walked into your sister's room and saw that you had put the plastic bag for your sister's blocks over her head. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!! Lila was fine--albeit looking out of the clear plastic bag with a confused expression on her face ("Um, hey, what's going on here?")--but I nearly had a heart attack. Note to self: It is NOT yet safe to leave you and your baby sister alone in a room together. Yeesh.

Love,
Mom

Potty Training Game

Dear Connor,

You know you're potty training a toddler when you're constantly playing a game of "Is that a puddle of water or a puddle of pee on the floor?"

That being said, you didn't have a single accident today. Yay!

Love,
Mom

Puddles

Dear Connor,

I take that back, you are not a potty training rock star. Yesterday must have been beginner's luck or something because you had five accidents today. I felt as if all I did today was wipe puddles of pee off of the floor (thank goodness we have hardwood floors and not carpet!) and wash out your underwear. I'd be making lunch or loading the dishwasher and then I'd hear it, that distinctive sound of pee streaming down onto the floor followed by you saying, "Oh no, I pee."

Oye.

Love,
Mom

Time for Undies!

Dear Connor,

Potty training you has been a long, long, looooong process. That is partially my and Daddy's fault. Having heard so many potty training horror stories from other parents (Constant trips to the bathroom? Puddles of pee everywhere? Cleaning poop out of underwear? No thank you!), we didn't even attempt to potty train you until you were two-and-a-half (some parents start when their kids are 18 months, those overachievers!). You first sat on the potty back at the end of November of last year and that is initially all you did--you sat on it. It took 10 days before you actually peed while you were sitting on the potty and when you finally did, you thought you'd done something wrong and said, "Oh no! Yellow!" when you saw the pee in the toilet.

Daddy and I cheered for you and rewarded you with a Thomas the Tank Engine sticker when you peed in the potty, but a month went by and you didn't pee in the potty again, not even once. Uncle Tony had given you the Cheer For Me potty I'd mentioned in the last post so we tried using it instead of the big potty; maybe you would be more comfortable on a smaller potty and be encouraged by the fact that the Cheer For Me cheers and sings every time you go in it (a hilarious feature, by the way!). And you did go in it a couple times, but then you just stopped. One time, you were sitting on it when you suddenly had to pee but instead of peeing in the potty, you jumped up, started crying, held in your pee and refused to go in the potty. When you couldn't hold it any longer, you ended up peeing on the floor--and on my feet. Ew. 

We switched you back to the big potty in the bathroom (you couldn't hop off of it as easily and we wouldn't have the "lovely" task of cleaning pee and poo out of the potty seat) and put you on it many, many times. Sometimes you peed and pooped; sometimes you didn't. Sometimes you had no problem going in it; sometimes you cried and refused to go in it. Cheering for you, giving you Thomas stickers, rewarding you with M&M's--nothing really worked consistently. But then, but then. In April of this year, you started peeing every time we put you on the potty. And by June, you were completely potty trained for poop--you no longer pooped in your diaper but said, "I have to poop!" every time you had to and waited until you were on the potty to go. I was so proud! (By the way, I didn't take any photos of your first pee or poop in the toilet like some parents do, so if you wanted to see that, well, too bad). 

You were still frequently peeing in your Pull-Ups, though, so everyone--my mommy friends, PoiPoi, even your teacher at camp--told me that I had to put you in underwear to complete the potty training process. But puddles of pee everywhere! Cleaning poop out of underwear! I don't want to deal with that! I don't have time to deal that while taking care of your sister, too! But I would like to potty train you by the time you are 3 (and your birthday is literally five days away) so I did it, I bit the bullet and put you in underwear today. You were visibly excited about this:

I was expecting the worst, but you only had one accident today (it was while Daddy was yelling at you after you'd done something bad, so he probably scared the pee out of you!) and even told me that you had to go pee three times. You are a potty training rock star!

Love,

Mom