Just another week for us.

We accepted an offer on our condo and are now in the process of getting approved and finding our next home.

Fletcher is about to turn three.

He just got enrolled in school. (This milestone came awfully fast, didn't it?)

It took two hours for a group of experts to tell me my son should talk more. Oh, and he needs to learn "compliance." Um, he's two years old. So now he's going to start taking speech lessons through the school district, and uh, he better COMPLY.

He still hates daycare, more than they were letting on to me. When he's there, they have to have an extra teacher in the room and he spends half his time in fits of hysterics. Hooray! New this week is screaming "mommy" from the moment daddy starts walking away.

Andy's about to leave for five days for his friend's destination wedding and I can't afford to take time off work, so instead I'm throwing Fletcher around his grandparents like a ping pong ball. I'll also mess up his routine in order to go house hunting.

Oh, and we're having a baby in four months.

So in the game of How Much Can We Screw Up Fletcher By Changing His Life, I'm totally winning.

An interesting time

I'm licking the frosting off my doughnut wrapper and thinking this is what desperation tastes like. Pregnancy has turned me into Homer Simpson. I would do nearly anything to obtain my daily doughnut, because it seems to be what gets me through the day.

In the process of trying to make life better I keep making life worse, at least for myself. Is this what parenting is? Is this what living is?

There's no time for anything. In fact, I don't have time to make this blog post, but I am, because I'm a stupid twat. That's the essence of the problem--every time I take something for myself, it's a bad idea because it's at the expense of something important, like one of my jobs, or my family members, or my home, etc.

It's rough when the guilt you feel for "me time" is justifiable. It's not just the "I'm being too hard on myself" guilt. I've worked myself into a tiny corner, and now I have to figure out how to live here. The word "sacrifice" bounces regularly through my head, and my opinion on it varies.

Our home finally goes up for sale today. Fletcher is starting daycare next week. This week, I need to get to the doctor to pick up his daycare paperwork, to the pharmacy to get his epi pen, and to the clinic for his allergy blood draw (fun). I need to coordinate around Andy's work training. I'm completely out of personal time at work, so every minute off the clock takes away from my maternity leave. I have a huge editing project due in two weeks that I've barely started. I have another prenatal doctor appointment tomorrow. And every other fricking day there's another therapy session, evaluation, or meeting regarding Fletcher's speech delay.

So, yeah. The good news is that Fletcher is starting to talk a little. He remains the bright shining light that illuminates my tiny corner. His favorite thing to say lately is "fell down." So he (and all his toys) regularly fall down. It's like living with a drunk.

His favorite foods right now are ice cream (cream!), cookies (coo-kie!), poptarts (tart!) and golden crisp/honey smacks (cereal!). Mac 'n cheese (noodle!) and apples are also popular. He says open (owen), mommy, daddy, blankie, play, sock, shoes, coat, in, out, no no no, no way, milk, up up up, toot, burp, car, tractor, plane, flower, ball, run, water, tree, stick, lion king, and several animals--his favorites being turtle, cow, bunny, monkey, sheep, horse, pig, duck, and kitty. Other words we've heard include "thank you" (although he says it when he expects you to say it to him), farm, grandma, movie, sweep, orange, apple, arm, ear, nose, hair, eyes, teeth, belly, toes, foot, sand, home, push, pull, santa, baby, diaper, pretzel, toast, corn, fries, sit, guitar, roar, light, stool, clean, dirty, wipe, where are you, remote (ote), mine, turn, set go (won't say "ready" though), icky, ni-night, sky, pillow, uh-oh, sun, spoon, refill, kick, high-ya!, happy, sad, ow, cord, meow, moo, bzzzz....sting, and I can't think of the rest but there's a lot. He might say "I'll get it" or "I got it," I'm not sure.

My goal is to get him to the point, soon, where I can ask him a question that isn't "yes or no" and he answers. Right now, if you ask him if he wants this or that, he just whines.

We're on the edge of many changes. With no cover on his doorknob anymore (for potty training purposes), Fletcher has the most freedom he's ever had. Next week, he will for the first time in his life spend a few hours without any family members. Andy's work hours are changing. We may have showings coming up soon and if we're lucky, we'll be moving. And oh yeah, there's a squirmy baby inside me that we have no clue how we're going to fit into our schedule.

It's an interesting time.

14 months old

14 months

He changes. He's confident and energetic. He steps up the stairs without kneeling. He's so tall he can reach things off the kitchen table and is able to grab the spout in the bathtub (and pull himself in headfirst). I don't want to forget the way he sometimes jogs around with his face pointed up toward the ceiling, how he hops up and down on his butt, or how he squeals when I walk in the front door.

What gets me most is when he looks in my eyes and says, "Mum Mum." I would do anything for this little boy.

yum

eyes

 

he is loooooong

and goofy

speaking

Andy: Say "mama."

Fletcher: Mmma mmma

Andy: Mama

Fletcher: Mmma mmma

Andy: Dada

Fletcher: *fart*

That kid knows.