ABC Obsession

I few weeks ago, I could have said Caleb has a single obsession: letters. But his birthday changed all that. Now he's into trains and dinosaurs.

It took some digging to find this video. Caleb was 20 months old at the time. Proof of the former obsession.

Two Years of Memories

My son, you may wonder why I chose to highlight some of your weaknesses and weirdness-es in this post of things I want to remember. I hope you know I chose them because I love every part of you. My love for you is not perfect, there's still too much of me in the way of God's hand - but I know it is a lasting love. It will stand no matter what comes because it was born in me when you were born.

These are the things I want to remember about your second year of life.

Books. You are obsessed with letters. In turn, you have an obsession with books. I don't take credit for this habit, except in the genes I've passed on to you. A team of people have been reading to you since the day that you were born. An overwhelming exposure to language and your fascination with the alphabet help explain your exponential growth in language development. You can talk like a three year old. You already use full sentences and understand abstractions and representation in language. You also talk non-stop, which has, no doubt, contributed to your growth in this area. I blame the talking gene on your dad.

Here are some of your favorite books from this year:

Falling Down. While you're language abilities amaze us, your coordination and general gross motor skills are making normal progression. You may even be slightly clumsy. I'll take the blame on that one. The funny thing is, you don't mind falling down. You rarely cry or whine. You just pick yourself up. Sometimes you say "Oops a Daisy" or "Gotta be tough." I'm pretty sure I once heard you say, "The table bit me." Either way, I categorize that as unfazed.

Strangely, your general clumsiness - falling down while you walk across the room - does not seem to influence your sense of balance. You like to stand on small items: toys, benches, tennis balls, parking lot cement blocks - and you're pretty good at it! But on the days you're not, it's not a big deal, because you're used to falling.

Music. You want music 24-7. Guess what you like . . . hip-hop! You like to say "hip-hop" with an emphasis on the p's. As soon as you started talking, there was a word you would say that I could not - for the life of me, and despite my excellent translation abilities - understand. It kind of sounded like you were trying to say "butterfly." It took me a few months before I realized you were saying, "Spotify," which is the music website we use to play your tunes. You have your own playlist of songs which you helped select. Everything from rap to a song about chickens to Somewhere Over the Rainbow.

The other morning when we were eating breakfast and listening to your playlist, you said, "Music is food!" I tried to encourage you to elaborate, but you just smiled and bobbed your head and chewed. Regardless, that statement sums up your current relationship with music.

You play nicely on the piano, but only show an interest when I'm playing. The drums, however, are your forte. Also, you love to dance - one hand in the air and spinning in circles.

Overcoming Fear. For as physically strong as you are, certain unexpected things get you bent out of shape. You have a fearful heart. Anything new or slightly strange elicits one of several responses: (1) tears (2) shaking (3) the clinging-death-grip-hug (that's my favorite). Grandpa's moving Elvis clock freaks you out even though you have seen it regularly for the past two years. You don't like basements, fire detectors, bouncy houses (we've been working on this one though), animal noises at the zoo, new characters in familiar shows, mechanized stuffed animals that move or make noises.

However, the things you should be scared of don't seem to bother you. Heights, hot ovens, growling dogs, bees. It's hard to predict what will strike fear in you.

You are developing your own techniques to manage these situations. Avoidance, which seems the most natural, but also self-talk. One night when you were fearful at bedtime, your daddy prayed with you. He asked Jesus to be your comfort and security. You calmed down and said that Daddy had "Prayed the scary," which we knew meant he had prayed the scary away. Since that night, I have heard you say, in the midst of a new fear, "Pray the scary. Pray the scary." Just saying that seems to calm you down. As my Southern friends and family would say, "Bless your little heart."

Repentance. As parents, we are developing our own strategies and rhythm for dealing with tantrums, anger, and selfishness expressed in your pint-sized person. Consistency and explaining why we discipline you has helped keep us calm in the midst of your meltdowns and hopefully provided you with understanding. What we have noticed about you is a soft spirit. You are quick to repent and rarely need multiple corrections for the same behavior in the same day (screaming, which brings you much joy and me much consternation, is the exception). I pray that this doesn't change in you, and that you see modeled in us the grace and forgiveness God offers.

Tennis. Readers who know me may not believe this, but we have not pushed you to show an interest in tennis. It's always around you because you are always around people who play tennis. At first, you seemed most interested in balls - but what little boy doesn't like to throw balls around and chase them? Wimbledon changed everything. We watched the men's final together (ok, you were mostly playing with your letters while your dad and I watched), but when we would cheer for Andy Murray, you would join in too. A few days after the tournament, you started to say, "Hit like Andy" while you were swinging your racket. You got a good laugh out of us, but this single expression and association seemed to flip a switch in you. Now you're all about tennis and Andy Murray, who is apparently also good at dancing and helping ("Spin like Andy" "Helping like Andy").

My daddy used to say this to me, and now I say it to you, "I love you to the moon and back!"

Happy birthday, Caleb Lawrence Haske!

Motherhood, an Afterthought

Afterthough = An idea, response, or explanation that occurs to one after an event or decision.

Were you, like my amazing mother, a little girl who dreamed of motherhood? When people asked what you wanted to be when you grew up, did you picture baby blankets and soft cuddles, a precious little one in your arms? If that was you, I thank God for you, for your natural patience and nurturing spirit, your self-sacrificing and merciful tendencies. I know you face your own unique challenges in motherhood, the struggle with contentment and a nagging feeling that things are not as perfect as you dreamed they would be.

I am from a different camp. At 5, I wanted to be a veterinarian, then a doctor, a professional tennis player, a literature professor, an interpreter, a travel writer, a farmer. You get the idea. I had a lot of dreams and aspirations but none of them involved strollers, play dates, or planning the perfect toddler party. There are strengths accompanying career ambitions - I excelled in school, in athletics. I was a goal-setter, driven, ambitious, busy with pursuit. As with all things, strengths hold hands with certain weaknesses of character. In my case, selfishness, pride, judgment, harshness, a critical spirit.

Motherhood was an afterthought for me. It wasn't something I excluded from my future, but I never gave it much space. Now, as mother of an almost 2 year old, when days are long and filled with a particularly whiny voice, I ask, "Why is this so hard?" I scold myself for getting frustrated and exhausted so easily, for yelling at my son for making everything harder to accomplish, for wanting to give up over the most ridiculous things - spilled beverages or poop on the floor (ok, poop on the floor is serious, not ridiculous). In those moments I think, "Maybe this would be easier if I had dreamed of motherhood?"

I have only lived my experience, but having talked to other young mothers it seems no matter how prepared or excited you were at the start of the journey - even if you had dreamed of it from youth - motherhood is hard . . .

. . . and equally wonderful. A friend of mine from church (Harvest Bible Chapel, if you were wondering) with three kids reassured me during my pregnancy. We had been discussing our general disinterest in children (don't judge) and she said, "Laura, God will give you a special love for the children He gives you." Completely true for me. Only divine grace could explain the gift of love I feel for my son.

The sun was streaming through the window, dust particles swaying down invisible streams. Music playing. Caleb and I were "dancing," which means flinging our arms out, throwing our heads back and spinning in circles. I caught his eye mid-turn and he giggled. My heart expanded and I caught my breath, tears clouded my eyes. I turned away so he wouldn't see me crying over the wonderful.