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Monthly Archives: July 2013

Dear Corwin,

You are 20 months and 11 days old. We’re discovering that you have a knack for deadpan humor, and I suppose I have your father to thank / blame for that. Whenever I’m looking for something and ask you where it is, you look at me and without blinking, point to your mouth, saying “Ahh”. Completely deadpan. Who knew toddlers could do that. I pretend to be shocked, and that’s when you laugh with glee and run away from me. Silly little thing.

You raise your thumbs in approval and say, “Good” or “Okay” when you like something. And you’ve been fist bumping us since before you were a year old. I might’ve forgotten to mention that before. It’s something that you mostly do at the dining table, and it makes me inexplicably happy. I delight in your boy-ness. Even the occasional accidental elbow to my rib while you bounce around in bed is okay.

The other day, you said “Eat me” quite a few times. I found that pretty funny already and made a move to gnaw on you. You ran away squealing and shaking your head, saying, “No, no.” Apparently, you meant to say you’re hungry and that you would like to eat, please. I still laugh every time I think about it.

Sometimes I feel like I’m trying to do too many things in a day: work and home errands, meetings, meeting deadlines, and still making as much time for you as possible. I’m always so grateful that I get to spend this much time with you, but I want more. I want to to grow the business even more and we’re working our way there, but I also want to be the best mother to you that I can be and then some. I derive so much meaning and immense happiness from both. I seem to be under this impression that I can have it all. I hope you raise your daughters to be the same way.

My best days are when we get home early from another good day at the office or a shoot, and take you to this grassy spot in my old university. You chase bubbles, and kick and throw your little Spiderman ball around. You run with abandon, as fast as your little legs can carry you, and I remember the book I read to you when you were in my tummy. “Someday you will run so fast and so far your heart will feel like fire.” And all the little stresses, all the little things I worry about every day, everything… they all just fade away.

Love,
Mommy

Dear Corwin,

Over the past 2-3 months, you’ve been quite taken with superheroes, particularly Iron Man. It’s funny because you don’t watch tv (except for the occasional Dora or Sesame Street) or read comic books. You just really like them. We got you a foot-long action figure of Iron Man, and the look on your face when you first saw him was priceless. Sometimes you hug him when you sleep. Sometimes you prefer a small bendable figure of Linus from Peanuts. One time, you walked around a mall, clutching him in your little hand. It tugged at my heart something fantastic.

This is our current favorite t-shirt of yours. It’s from Grandma, who remembered how much I wanted it since I was pregnant. I’m looking forward to the time when you can tag along at some of our shoots and see what we do. We can’t wait to give you your first camera.

You like saying no, but you say it with a teasing smile on your face and that naughty twinkle in your eye. I ask you for kisses and you say no with that look, and it’s so cute and cheeky that I want to gnaw on you a little bit. You kiss me eventually, and all is well with my world. You respond to the word “help”. When you’re not paying attention, all I have to do is ask for your help, and you straighten up to help me. You proudly flex your little arms to show how strong you are when I call you a strong little boy.

I drew a sad face today and asked you what that was. You said “sad”, and proceeded to kiss it repeatedly to make it better. I changed it to a smiling face and asked you what it was. You said “Corwin”. You call every single smiley you see “Corwin”, and every time I think about that, how you identify yourself with happiness, it makes me so deeply happy I could cry.

Love,
Mommy