LOVE

I'm overwhelmed tonight with how very much I love my sweet little boy.

My sweet sweet boy.

I am bowled over with how incredible sweet he is.  

He's kind.  He's funny.  He's loving.  He's thoughtful.  He's sweet.

He has the best heart.

He feels.  Goodness he feels.  He feels huge.  He wears his heart on his sleeve.

He's easily hurt.  So easily hurt.

I can see it happen immediately...that hurt.  He crumples up inside and out and it breaks my heart.

His gentle spirit cracks just a bit each time he's hurt.

Each time I hurt him.

I'm far from the most patient person.  

I'm far from the most patient mother.

When he's just being a normal 4 year old and I want to get us out of the house he gets his feelings hurt.

When I ask him or tell him to do something and he's distracted or simply doesn't want to listen at that moment, and I get upset, he gets his feelings hurt.

Over the past month I've realized what a genuinely sweet little person I have living in this house with me.  He's thrown one fit, one fit, in a store in his entire life.  He has yet to talk back to me in public or gotten angry at me.  He is the child who strives to do what he's told by authority figures.  He loves the kids who are the meanest or roughest with him.  And he's so gentle.  So gentle.  He doesn't destroy his belongings in any way, shape or form.  I'm just so very lucky.

Many will say it's most likely the way I've raised him.

I say it's just who he is.

Because I'm quick to get upset.  I'm quick to count to 3 to get proper behavior.  I'm quick to raise my voice (though I desperately try not to yell).  

I want to continue to establish boundaries for him, yet in a more loving manner.  A manner which embraces his sweet, gentle spirit.  I'm learning to count to 3 for myself to get proper parenting behavior. 

I'm most overwhelmed with how much he loves me.  I watch him look for me and how his eyes light up when he finds me in a crowded room.  

I want to always be his safe place.  When he's 14 and beyond 'over his mother' I want him to know deep down that I'm his safe place.  When he's 16 and he's struggling I want him to look for me even if he doesn't know he's looking for me.

I want to honor all that he is.  

My beautiful boy.  

A Milestone at the Ripe Ol' Age of 4y1m!

It's been a weekend of a few firsts in our house, but none as big as the one that happened tonight.

Tate is sound asleep, downstairs in his room.

In his big boy Polar Express bed.

In his big boy train room.

He has been so excited for this moment asking a couple of times a week when will it be time to sleep downstairs in his train room?

Of course he's always quick to say that I'll be sleeping down there too, not upstairs.  And I reassure him that yes I will sleep with him for a while. But I do always say that one day "Mommy will sleep upstairs and you'll be downstairs, and it will be all right.  You can come find me whenever you need me."

So tonight we took the plunge!  I gave him a bath upstairs, brushed his teeth upstairs and then we lugged his hippo, his Sue-Y bear, his Eyeore (how do you spell that???), his Pluto and his huge puppy, the CD player, the huge air purifier and his Thomas pillow downstairs.  (Don't ask me why I didn't move some of this stuff down earlier!)

I laid down with him after we read two stories...books he chose from his new train wall!  He was so very excited!  Then we laid down.  He tossed and turned in excitement for several minutes then finally settled down and fell asleep within about 20 minutes or so.

And I came on back upstairs.

I'm still so unsure this was the right move for us.  Not that he doesn't need his own room, but where I've put him.  I have a townhouse, and when I had it built 10 years ago I had the third bedroom on the third floor 'removed.'  What I mean is the house had a floor plan;  I talked with the builder and discussed having the living room on the second floor having 18 foot ceilings which would require the bedroom above it to not be in my floor plan.  He was completely onboard, and I saved $20,000.

Never once imagining I'd have a child in this house.

Fast forward to 2009.

I have a child.  I figured he would sleep in his crib in my room for the first couple of months, then I would move him downstairs.  Easy Peasy.

Fast forward to 2013.

Said child is still sleeping in my room.  Heck...he's been in my bed with me since February 2013.

And I love having him there.  We've bed-shared off and on since he was 6 days old.   When he would wake up as an older infant I often would put him in bed with me.  Around 12 or 13 months of age he was having a really hard time falling asleep in his crib, so I would put him to sleep in bed, then move him to his crib when I went to bed (Surprisingly he didn't wake and rarely woke in the middle of the night to move back to my bed, but it was fine when he did).  Whenever we traveled we slept together and transitioning back to the crib was never a problem.  I don't know why when we returned from Canada earlier this year that he ended up in bed with me, but it's been fine.  It's been great actually.  I love having him so close to me at night...we see each other so little during the week.

My dilemma was where to put him.  Do I put him on the third floor...which translated into giving him my bedroom.  My beautiful feminine bedroom?  Or do I put him in the bedroom on the first floor which I had had painted a gorgeous blue while pregnant with him intending to make it his nursery.

My concerns for the third floor were mainly worrying about him walking down the stairs to find me in the dark in the middle of the night.  Also the third floor overlooks the second floor with wrought iron railings.  Tate loves to climb and he's actually tried to scale the railings a bit, so that scared me like crazy.  My concerns for the first floor were just that...it's the first floor.  I didn't want my child on the first floor.  Also I needed to get my locks changed to double dead bolt because he's learned to unlock them...I don't worry he'll leave...I worry he'll open the door when looking for me (as he did once a few weeks ago) and our cat will escape.  There's a gate around the entire perimeter of our house, but Vincent can get under it.  Our alarm is always, always set to instant, so I'd know immediately if Tate opened the door, but Vinnie would get out before I could stop him.  So I had to have the locks changed.  So my worry then was Tate scaling the railings and falling down the stairs in the middle of the night.  I know he could fall climbing up the stairs too, but it seems that on hardwood stairs in socks (which he insists upon sleeping in) that down would be worse.  And let's be honest I want to stay in my lovely room.  So he's downstairs.

I went with a train theme, and worked on getting everything in place around his birthday this year.  He was thrilled with everything!  The sheets, the blanket on the wall, the rocking chair as his birthday present...the whole shebang.  Bryan and Mike moved the crib downstairs and converted it for me and we were in business.

Tate got new sheets!

He even slept with them the first night we had them!

I stalked Pinterest and UPS became my best friend and this was the finished product...

 

Birthday present from Mommy!

Detail on the chair!

Reading Nook!

Please pardon the box spring covered in plastic under
the bed.  I didn't realize a box spring was not
necessary for the converted double bed.  I am planning
on covering the box spring with a navy fitted sheet.
Now to find time to go shop for it!

This is 'his' bathroom.  He's not a fan of showers, so he bathes in my jacuzzi tub upstairs.

Tate has not slept in this house maybe only 7 times in his 4 years 1 month and 15 days.  In those 1499 days he has slept here he has been in my room with me.  I'm going to go upstairs to my room, turn on all the lights, turn on the tv, wash my face and brush my teeth while making all kinds of noise.

Then I'm going to tiptoe downstairs, straighten his covers, make sure he has his hippo, adjust the thermostat, kiss his sweet cheek and climb under those train sheets and sleep with my boy.

Changes! Four Year Old Check-Up and First Day of Pre-Kindergarten!

My big 4 year 1 month old is 41 inches and 36.4 pounds!!  He's at the 50th percentile for weight and 62nd percentile for height!  He gained 5 pounds and grew 2 3/4 inches.  He increased his weight percentile, up from the 42nd percentile, though he decreased in the height percentile, down from 61st percentile.  People do always remark that he seems so very tall, but I think that's because he's tall and lean with long legs giving the impression of length!  We'll go with it :)

All was well.  He had a hearing test.  It was so cute to watch.  The nurse put headphones on him and told him to raise his hand on the side he heard the noise.  At first he put his hand up when he heard the first sound, then he started raising both hands or no hands.  Then he started telling us what the sounds sounded like...trains and doorbells.  It took a bit, but he finally 'got it.'

They also did an eye exam which he whizzed through!  He didn't fuss about anything, not the blood pressure or examination until it was time for the immunizations!  I mistakenly told him he was getting a couple of shots (I only did DtAP and IPV).  He started whining and crying immediately.  At that point I don't think he even knew what a shot was.  We've never talked about them, not ever.  Sigh.  Well he was a mess crying "No Mommy, please Mommy!"  Now I've never felt the least bit bad about him getting a shot, not even when he was 2 months old.  I've never wanted to cry because it hurt like many other moms do.  Though I insisted upon splitting the injections up over the course of the years, I didn't get upset.  Until this time.  There was a brief moment when he was begging me not to let the nurse do it that I felt myself ready to tear up.  He just broke my heart.  He was begging the one person who has promised to protect him always and forever to not let this 'bad' thing happen to him.  I took a big breath and held him down though and we made it through with no tears on my part and a howl and kicking on his part.  Everyone survived.  He got a couple of Thomas stickers and we made our way down the street to get him a new Thomas train.  He chose Connor! 

Tuesday morning rolled around and it was time for me to go back to work and Tate to go back to daycare/school.  

More importantly, it was Tate's first day of PRE-KINDERGARTEN!!!

I cannot believe my little boy is in Pre-K.  I am shaken to my core with awe, pride and disbelief.  My son will be going to elementary school in one year.  One year.  Big boy school.

Not thinking about that.  Not thinking about that.  Not thinking about that.  Not thinking about that.

School actually started on Monday, but we had our other plans, so rebels that we are, Tate and I started on Tuesday (wonder if that will work next year!!??)

So excited about his new lunchbox!
His pre-school teacher who absolutely
adores has a sister who is the one
who gave Tate the lunchbox!
Isn't that just the sweetest?

There's that smirk I love!!!

In front of his favorite center - The Train Center!
Thanks Ms. D!!!! 

At his new desk!!!

He's been on green all week!! 

Hanging with his new teacher, Ms. D!

Early morning they combine classes as teachers arrive!
Mrs. L was Tate's teacher the year 2011-2012!
He loves her!

It's been a great week!  Tate's doing really well, and has transitioned amazingly well.  No tears or complaints.  He's been extremely happy in the evenings the past three nights, happily playing with his trains as soon as we walk in the door.  He's been loving, buggy and just the sweetest little boy.  He's a fantastic listener most of the time and really tries hard to please.  We certainly have our moments, but they are quite few.  He's smart as a whip too!  (doesn't every parent think so?)  He can count to 100, he can to 90 by tens, he can tell you what letter any word starts with, seems like he has a few sight words and he loves books!  

I have been utterly blessed.  Truly blessed.  I read all these posts about kids with sensory issues, developmental delays, kids who hit and spit and have mean-spirited dispositions or are just plain difficult.  And I see kids like that every single day at my office.  The sheer number of children that we see on a daily basis with some sort of diagnosis of mental difficulty or sensory issues or acting out (I'm shocked by how many kids hit and kick their parents in anger.  Absolutely shocked).  

And I know I'm blessed.  God is amazing.  I'm so very grateful that He has given me this soul to love and nurture.  I know I fail miserably in my nurturing sometimes, and I throw myself on His mercy and beg forgiveness for He has trusted me with one of His children.  I'm lucky.  So lucky.

I get to be Tate's mom.