Turning Two!

It has been quite a celebration in my house this past couple of days.  My son turned two yesterday but that hasn't stopped us from celebrating everyday before and after for the past month.  The kid has had three birthday cakes in the past 5 days. Seriously?  Who's idea is it to give a two year old that much sugar?

As the date come closer to my baby boy turning 2, I have been reflecting on what a joy he has been.
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Actually, scratch that.  He has been a complete terror!  As I look at my past posts I realize that most of them are either centered around my son inherent need to destroy my sanity or his incredible ability to toy with his own life.  Between the screaming and the trips to the hospital, I'm pretty much spent.

For the first 9 months of his life all he did was cry.  No, not cry, scream... Like a banshee.  No joke.  He came out screaming like a two year old and it never really changed.  And now that he is actually two years old I can verify that it is in fact a two year old shrike.

He and I did not have a very good start.  In every way that my oldest was a joy, my son was a monster!  He never slept, he need to be constantly fed or held and he made it his job to cry as long and as loud as possible at home, in the car, at church, at target (same thing, right?)... Plus, it took him forever to walk and that kid was friggin heavy!!

I had constant battles over food and toys and attention.  As much as he's cry when he was with me, it would be doubled when I had to leave him somewhere.  God forbid I would have a date night with my husband.  I could hear the faint cry of "hussy" in his cloud of screaming as I would walk out the door.  So not only did he hate being with me, he equally hated not having me around.  Just like a man.

He taught me so much about myself that I honestly wish I had never had the opportunity to find out.  Like how I realized that I would rather give up food then alcohol or that my prayers for a happy child would just turn into desperate pleas for a nap that would last longer then 20 minutes.  Yes, it's true that I love my son but I sure didn't like him for a while there.  We spent so much time yelling and crying at each other that I was convinced that he hated me.  (Which might have true.)

But I look at him today with his big boy haircut (thanks Brandy!) and his little super hero jammies as he concentrates so intently on building his train puzzle and I can't help but think where the time has gone.  He has become such a caring and considerate child.  He is so willing to make friends and loves playing with his sisters.  He loves to sing and dance.  He adores anything that resembles a truck and if it doesn't he will make it into one anyway.

He knows when I'm going to cry and asks to hug me before I drop the first tear.  He comforts his younger sister when she hurts herself.  He sings to himself when he likes what he's eating and thinks goldfish are there own food group.  He loves animals, especially dogs and he just about wets himself when we take him to the zoo.  He loves the water and will run around for hours if you take him to an open field.

Even though he is so distinctly himself, I see so much of who I am in him.  And I realize,  I like who am.  Some times you just need a little mirror to help you see the best of yourself.

Antenella