A dating history of sorts

Yesterday marked six years to the day since Todd and I had our very first date. A casual cup (cups) of coffee at the Starbucks near Mark Center in Alexandria. At the time, I was living a couple of blocks away in my own apartment (man I loved that apartment). Todd was living more like 45+ minutes away in Centreville with three other guys in the ultimate bachelor pad.

 

We had met four years prior to that, which means this year marks 10 years total that Todd and I have "known" each other. 10 years that we have been a presence, no matter how small or big, in each other's lives. That is officially 1/3 of my life. And sure, that doesn't seem like much to most people, but to me, it is incredible. Especially when I think back to what I had to go through to end up with a man like Todd. 

Very first picture together - March 2007 (after about 1.5 months of dating)

 

I remember being in middle school - terrible bangs, glasses, braces, zits, and an awkward shyness - watching the popular girls receive flowers and teddy bears from their boyfriends.  Seeing them kiss in front of their lockers.  Hearing them constantly talk about so-and-so going out with so-and-so this week, and changing to a different guy the next.  And I remember longing for the day when I would have my own boyfriend.  Desperate, is really what you'd call it.

By the time I reached the ninth grade, I had grown out my bangs, got my braces taken off, and bought a set of contacts.  I tried out for, and made the freshman cheerleading squad, and I subsequently began making the best group of girlfriends I could have ever imagined.  I was not quite as awkward anymore, and let's be honest - I had pretty big boobs for a ninth grader, so I had that going for me.  I was perfect girlfriend material.

Or so I thought.

Instantly, I fell for the bad boys.  I had a desperate crush on one guy - who I'm pretty sure was a major stoner, though I never actually confirmed that - but it was one of his friends that asked me to go to homecoming with him instead.  He had diamond earrings (which for some reason thrilled my mom), and generally gave me the creeps every time he even looked at me.  We went to homecoming together, and I even had my first kiss with him - in the sweaty LB gym.  Dancing to "Unbreak My Heart".  It was awkward, slobbery, and pretty freaking exciting because I had finally! kissed! a boy! 

On Monday in school, he came up to me, tried to put his arm around my shoulders, and I got completely grossed out and never spoke to him again. 

By 10th grade, I decided I was more into the athletes and set my sights on a cute football player in my computer class.  And damn if I didn't snag him for a whole 3 months.  As a Valentine's present, he took me to my very first concert - Matchbox 20 (Rob Thomas still holds a special place in my heart), before literally ripping my heart out of my chest by telling me he had feelings for his "best friend".  Crushed.

In 11th grade, I met another football player - one of the above mentioned guy's good friends.  We hit it off in our Advanced P.E. class, went to homecoming together, and ended up dating for a full 2 years.  We were inseparable and I even decided to follow him to college, only to go away to beach week with all of my friends, and realize I just wasn't in love with him anymore.  I broke his heart, felt horrible about it, and then learned not so long after that, that he had been egging my car (while we were dating!) with a friend of his, and told every single guy on the football team - in the locker room - that we had sex.  Frequently.  A total, blatant lie, that made me thrilled I had broken up with him.

By college, I was ready to be single, but the summer before heading off to college, I fell hard for a friend.  Someone I had essentially known since about the 3rd grade, through a mutual friend. We fell for each other a mere two months before heading off to college.  And managed to stay together for a whole semester.  Except he went on a ski trip with his buddies over winter break, didn't call me once, and then broke up with me the minute he got back.  Heart, broken.

I took my sophomore year of college to finally be single - and it was by far my favorite year of college.  I went out with my girlfriends, joined a sorority, flirted like crazy, and made a ton of new friends.  But by the end of sophomore year, word had gotten back to my aforementioned boyfriend (by way of some of his close friends that I went to college with) that I was "so much fun" and he decided he wanted me back.  A fool in love, I took him back, only to have my heart ripped out once again due to his lack of commitment.  Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, and it hurts ten times as bad.

College sophomore me.

By my junior year of college, I was working at a local restaurant, waiting tables.  After a few months of working there, Todd happened to come in for lunch with a buddy of his.  I saw a cute guy in a backwards hat sitting at a table in the bar, and instantly told the bartender "that guy is so cute!"  She told me she was going to give him my number, and ran back to his table.  I knew I had to say something to him, so I went over, said "hi, that's my number" and long story short, we eventually made plans for a date that I stood him up on, stating that I "just wasn't ready to date again".  In hindsight, it was a good move.  Todd always says, had we tried to date back then, we would've never made it.  We were just in different places in our lives.

But a few months later, at that very restaurant, I met E.  He worked there, as well.  He was 6'4", loud, and all the girls fawned over him.  I was no exception.  So imagine my excitement when he took notice of ME.  He wanted to date ME!  By the end of my junior year of college we were a couple - if you could call it that.

I spent well over a year of my life desperately waiting by the phone for him to call me.  Spending every single dime I earned at work to buy him dinner and beer and anything else he wanted, just to have an excuse to go to his house and hang out.  The more I wanted him to love me, the worse he treated me.  He was into drugs (fortunately never did them in front of me), and once told me he'd rather deal cocaine than hang out with me.  One night he got in a fight with his roommate, I tried to jump in the middle, and he punched me so hard in the face that my eye swelled up black and blue and swollen shut.  He wasn't even remorseful. I told my mom we were horsing around and it was an accident.  She knew the truth.

He treated me like a dog...and that's what I felt like.  I spent half of my time crying over him, and the other half trying to make him love me.  He broke my finger by pushing me across the room, over the bed.  And yet I still wanted him to love me.

The thing of it was, for other people - our coworkers, friends, adults - he put on a good show.  He acted like a goofball that everyone found hilarious and wanted to hang out with.  And I was completely embarrassed of myself, so I never told anyone what was going on.

I became depressed and removed from my friends.  I gained a lot of weight - to which he told me I looked fat, yet he still allowed me to spend MY money to take us out to dinner and buy him beer.

I stopped talking to my family.  They didn't like him, and so I blamed them for the problems in my relationship. 

And then it all came to a head.  One night he spent 30 minutes on the phone telling me how fat and disgusting I was.  How he was hooking up with other girls.  How worthless he thought I was.  I called in sick to work in the morning, only able to cite that I was "really sad".  I spent all day in bed crying.  And I knew I had to change something.

It took finding an apartment in a different city, and not telling anyone where I was moving - not even my roommate at the time, my best friend - and getting the hell out of dodge, to realize my worth.

I moved to a place all my own.  I reconnected with my parents - who never even brought up my horrible relationship, just allowed me to heal with their love and guidance.  And I eventually pushed him away.  He called me one night in the middle of the night to tell me he was so sorry...he wanted to change...he was going to change.  He said he wanted to be with me forever, get married to me one day.  I told him there was something mentally wrong with him - that he needed to see a therapist - and that I was no longer going to be an outlet for his problems.  He told me he was taking a bunch of pills and wanted to hang himself.  I calmly hung up the phone, called his parents, told them what he had said, and never spoke to him again. 

Through the grapevine, I heard that he began to better himself.  Went to therapy, went back to college, graduated...changed his life around.  But to me, it was far too late.  HE was the worthless one in my eyes.  It took me a long time to understand that.  I am a forgiving person - usually forgiving, but not forgetting.  In his case, the wounds are too deep.  I will never forget, and I will never forgive him. 

After that experience, I played it single for a while.  Went out with my girlfriends, partied, adopted Whinnie when I became lonely and needed a companion.

Baby Whinnie in 2006

And then I realized that I wanted someone to share my life with.  And meeting guys in bars just wasn't working.  So I joined e-Harmony.

10,000 questions later, I went on a date with a guy that only wanted to talk about all the partying he did in college (dude loved himself some beer pong).  There was absolutely no spark.  I deleted my account the next day.

A few months later, a girlfriend told me she met a guy on match.com and that it was an awesome website.  So I joined with a trial membership.  And I ran the gamut from total creepy weirdos, to pretty cool guys.  I suppose my match.com experience is a blog post in and of itself.  I mean, one guy even sent me a message containing all the lyrics to Pearl Jam's "Can't Find a Better Man".  No actual words of his own...just song lyrics.  No, we didn't ever go on a date.

One guy showed up at my apartment in boat shoes with no socks.  In February.  Pass.

Another guy I actually went on two dates with.  On the second date, he dropped me off at my apartment just as it started to rain, and he said "do you mind if I drop you off here and don't walk you to the door since it's raining?"  Nope, didn't mind.  And nope, we never went out again.

But I did date one guy that I thought was a pretty good find.  He was a special education teacher, tall, attractive, kind.  We had a pretty quick connection and I was certain I was going to be through with my match.com account after just our first date. Turns out, he was just on match looking for a hook-up and after a few dates, couldn't be bothered to talk to or hang out with me unless it fit his schedule.  Back to square one.

Just as I was giving up hope of ever dating a nice, normal guy, Todd reconnected with me over AOL instant messenger (I know, old school!).  He sent me a message, had to refresh my memory on who he was, and asked if I wanted to grab a cup of coffee sometime.  I distinctly remember thinking "well, what's one more bad date?"  At this point I had experienced it all, so I felt like a pro.

We spent our first date in this very car -- I love my Buick, but man do I miss her...

 

I can still remember that first date vividly, as though I am still on it.  Todd was wearing carpenter's jeans, a Michigan hat, and a pull-over windbreaker.  I had on a blue sweater from Victoria's Secret, jeans, and these workman style boots that should have sent Todd screaming for the hills.  He smoked cigarettes and paid for my coffee.  He ordered a sugar free hazelnut latte.  I ordered a vanilla latte - the only thing I'd ever had from Starbucks before.  The shop was completely crowded, not a free seat, so we decided to sit in the car because it was freezing (it was January after all).  Being a skeptic, I asked that we sit in my car.  He agreed.

April 2007

 

We had met at 7:00pm.  By 11:00pm I realized we had been talking about everything and anything under the sun for four hours, and that my poor 1 year old puppy hadn't eaten dinner and probably had peed in her crate, and so I told him I had to go home.  We hugged goodbye next to my Mitsubishi, and I drove away thinking "if nothing else, I just gained an awesome friend." 

10 minutes after I got home, he texted me "I'm sorry I didn't kiss you, I owe you one next time".  We made plans to get together for our next date on Superbowl Sunday.  We had our first kiss in the parking lot of Arby's in Centreville (hey, we were young and on a budget).

August 2007 - oh to be that young and thin again!

 

Six years later, we have an incredibly strong marriage, a beautiful two year old son, and a life I never imagined I would get to have.  He is my absolute best friend, my rock.  He loves me first thing in the morning - make-up free, bad breath and all.  He's seen me from the inside out (literally!  Hello c-section!) and watched me go #2 on a hospital bed.  We have literally been through the good, the bad, and the disgusting.  And at the end of the day, there is nobody I would rather spill my guts to than him. 

It took me a long time to realize that what I deserved most in a man, was someone who accepted me fully, loved me unconditionally, and truly treated me as his equal and very best friend.  I know that things won't always be easy - trust me, we have our share of arguments.  But I am beyond 100% confident that what we have is unbreakable.  We will always be a team.  And I completely owe this life with Todd to God's divine intervention.  Todd truly was an unanswered prayer.

And then we made this little guy.  Does it get any better than that?!

A cow says "ooooooooo"

We spent another glorious two-days at my parent's lake house this past weekend and I've officially decided that there is nothing better for my soul than escaping to that little slice of heaven.  Maybe it's the crisp, fresh lake air and the ability to get some real oxygen into my lungs.  Or perhaps is the sharp silence when you first wake up in the morning.  Or if we're being real here, it's probably because Nick seems to sleep best at the Lake.  All of which add to my zen like state, the dropping of my blood pressure, and the full ability to just de-stress, unwind, and breathe. 

Whatever the main reason, the Lake is my happy place.  And I'm already ticking off the days in my planner until we can go back.  I've gone so far as to tell my husband he can host Shandy Cup in our house again this year, because THIS year, Nick and I can escape to the lake with my folks.  Heaven.

So the weekend was spent playing games (Sour Apples to Apples, Scattergories, Poker), eating far too much yummy food (baked spaghetti, egg & hash brown casseroles, huge deli sandwiches, snicker doodle cookies, hamburgers & hot dogs...yes my stomach still hurts two days later), having a two-on-two basketball game with Todd, my brother, and his girlfriend (yes, my body still hurts two days later), snuggling and playing with my favorite two year old, and enjoying the fact that at any given time, his two very willing grandparents were ready to jump in and take over for a while, giving Todd and I ample time to just RELAX. All three dogs came to the lake as well, and it was two straight days of puppy lovin'...(although if we're being honest, Whinnie needs to learn a little more about sharing properly).

But the absolute highlight of our ridiculously relaxing weekend??

Nick started repeating some animal noises.

For a kid who up until now has been less than verbal, this was huge.  All on his own.  Practically out of thin air.

We were sitting at the coffee table reading books, and he picked up his "FARM" book.  It's basically just a short, 8 page board book, with pictures of farm animals and items, with the word printed under them.  Up until this weekend, any time I read the book to Nick, he had zero response to my questions of "what does a _________ say"...unless it was a duck, in which case he would give me a very quiet "kack".

So here I was, flipping the pages, and came across the cow.  Before I could even finish saying "what does a cow say?"  Nick responded with a very loud, and matter-of-fact "ooooooooooo!".  Sure, he was missing the "mmm" sound at the beginning, but he knew damn well what he was saying - and what he was saying was "moo!"

I turned the page to a sheep and said "Nick, what does a sheep say??" and he responded with a loud "aahahahaaha".  It wasn't quite "baaaahhh", but we both knew exactly what he meant and that he was 'getting it' finally!  So I asked one more - that wasn't in the book - and said "Nick, what does a monkey say?" and damn if my little guy didn't put both hands under his arm pits like a monkey and say "eeee eeee eee!"  Something Todd and I have been trying to get him to do for months.  MONTHS.

It was one of my proudest mommy moments to date.  For a mommy of a verbal toddler, I'm sure this won't make much sense.  I'm sure this sounds like something a 14 month old should be saying, not a 4-days-from-turning-2 toddler.  But for us, it was huge.  It was a breakthrough.  And you better believe I jumped up and down, clapped, swung him around, and cheered like he'd just won the Nobel Prize.  Because to me, it felt that good.  He's finally getting it.  He really wants to talk.  He is GOING to talk.  And it's starting now.
   
Like I said - there's something magical...something healing...about the Lake House.  And I can't wait to go back.

Sick

The only thing I've done today is tend to my sick baby boy. He is lethargic, exhausted, and coughing like a 65 year old Marlboro Red smoking cowboy. the only thing he wants to do is lay on me. And truth be told, considering how busy of a two year old he usually is when feeling well, I am soaking in every single sweet snuggle and loving it.

Earlier, as I held Nick on my chest, I pushed the sweaty hair back from his feverish forehead, and tried to soothe his achy whimpers, and I couldn't help but picture myself - tiny and helpless, curled up on my own mom's lap in the middle of the night - sick and scared. I remember how the only thing that made me feel better when I was sick, was her presence. How breathing her in, with my head tucked right into the crook of her neck, was somehow more soothing than any medicine. And the gentle stroking of her fingers along my back were more healing than any doctor. She was the cure for any ailment.

And now that I am responsible for taking care of a little one - making sure he is comfortable and soothed - I realize he is also taking care of me. Filling a suppressed "mommy-need", if you will. The need to feel needed. And I realize now that just as my mom was giving every ounce of herself to make sure I was well taken care of, she was also secretly grateful for those middle of the night cuddles. Because she needed me. And she was needed.

I still wish I could curl up on my mom's lap every time I'm sick. But now it's my turn to provide the comfort to my own baby. And I'm loving the opportunity.

It's amazing how life has certainly come full circle.

Little fibber

I have so many posts to catch up on - most of which are sitting in my drafts folder, half written, half waiting for pictures - but I can't seem to motivate myself to finish them.  But this, I want to remember, because it was cute.  Sort of a "you had to be there" cute, but cute none-the-less.

Last night as Todd was giving Nick a bath, I was picking up and putting away a few things upstairs.  I popped into the bathroom to say something to Todd and noticed that he was washing Nick's hair (as we do just about every night).  I left the bathroom to finish what I was doing, and came back to hang out for the remainder of bath time.

When I knelt down next to Todd and the tub, Nick's hair had clearly been rinsed.  I said:
"Nick, did Daddy wash your hair?"

Nick reached up, rubbed his hair with his hands, looked me straight in the eye, and shook his head "no".

Todd and I both cracked up and Todd said "how are you gonna lie to mommy like that?!"

I asked Nick again "Daddy didn't wash your hair??"

And again, Nick shook his head with a very firm "no".

So I asked Nick "did Daddy wash your stinky feet?"

Again, a firm toddler "no" head shake ensued.  Followed by the propping of his feet on the side of the tub for me to scrub them.

At this point, Todd threw in the towel and said "well, if he doesn't think I'm gettin' him clean enough, I guess you'll have to do bath time from now on!"

So I tried one more time, and asked Nick "did Daddy wash your stinky butt?"

And Nick grinned and shook his head "yes".

Guess we know where Daddy stands with bath time.  Full time butt scrubber!

Merry, Merry!

Hopefully by now, all of our friends and family (at least those who read this blog) have received our 2012 Christmas card.  If not, well...spoiler alert!

 

 

May the rest of your 2012, and all of your 2013 be Merry and Bright!

my holiday spirit

I have been having a hard time getting into the holiday spirit.  I put on a good front, and pretend like I am all kinds of excited, but truth be told, it's been a long December (cue Counting Crows) and excitedly anticipating Christmas has been on my back burner. 

With the combination of the loss of a dear friends mother - who was a dear friend to us and "Grandma Mary" to Nick; the horrible colds and allergies Nick has been fighting including a 911 call and ambulance trip -- all of which, in turn, have caused almost a full month of sleeplessness for the whole K household; getting my period again this month when we so desperately want to have another baby; and then the horrible tragedy that occurred in Newtown, CT, my heart has been heavy and hurting.  Combined with a lack of sleep, I have been grumpy and downright sad.

Sometimes it's tough to feel like you have to be strong for everyone around you.  It's tough to feel as though you can't truly let out your emotions, because "hey, you're the mom - you've gotta get it together!"  Then you find yourself sitting at the computer on a Monday morning, googling "Childhood apraxia of speech", crying into your coffee because you feel so helpless. 

And then you remember those families who's loved ones were yanked out of their loving arms just days before what is supposed to be the happiest day of the year, and suddenly your tears turn into heavy sobs - your feelings of helplessness turn into a pit in your stomach and all you want to do is vomit, curl up in the fetal position, and sleep off this horrible nightmare.  You feel guilty for having your own feelings of sadness, when your sadness is mere ounces compared to the tons of heavy hearts breaking up North.  The hearts breaking across the country.

After two weeks of Nick not sleeping - crying every time we put him down in his crib, us rushing in every few minutes to try and soothe him back to sleep, him standing up and screaming every couple of hours through the night, and ultimately all three of us (four including whinnie) waking up in the master bedroom at 4am in a huge, sweaty, uncomfortable pile of people - Nicks foot in my face, his head resting on top of Todd's - we decided he was getting pretty damn smart for an almost two year old, and this had to stop.  We had to resort back to the worst parental punishment of all.  Crying it out.

Two nights of crying it out, and we've had two nights of restful sleep.  All of us in our own beds.  Nobody sweating from the abundance of flannel footie pj's and body heat crammed onto a queen size mattress.  Night number one, Nick cried on and off - never more than a loud whine - for 50 minutes.  After that, he realized it was a losing battle, laid down, and never made a peep the rest of the night.  Last night, Nick pulled the same loud whining routine for a mere 30 minutes.  He did wake up twice in the night, but both times were also loud whines, not lasting more than 5-10 minutes each.

Two nights of sleep for all of us, and I feel like a new person.  Nick is acting like a new toddler.  My hopelessness is being replaced with hopefulness. 

While we still grieve for our dear Mary, and especially her family, I'm beginning to realize that she is no longer hurting.  She no longer has to battle the terrible cancer that consumed her body.  And we all have a beautiful angel watching over us.  I know she will take particularly good care of Nick - oh how she loved our boy - and that brings me so much peace. 

We made an appointment at the allergist for Nick, for this Friday.  I'm hopeful he will be able to give us some insight on what kind of foods might be irritating Nick, without our knowledge.  And I'm relieved that after three "nope - not an ear infection - he just has a cold" pediatrician appointments, it's ok for us to let Nick cry it out at night...because he's not sick...he's just smart (I cry, mom and dad rush in!).

And I've realized that God's timing is perfect timing.  With Nick's sleepless December, God knew I wouldn't be able to handle first trimester sickness and midnight potty breaks with a screaming toddler across the hall.  He knew we needed a little more time.  So with His grace and guidance, we will keep trying.  And eventually we will succeed.  (Plus we've got Mary on our side...and if I know Mary, I know she'll be sending us a little extra good baby "juju". ;))

We took Nick to see Santa last night.  Seeing his face light up as Santa walked in - jingle bells ringing, lights twinkling, and so much magic in the room - my holiday spirit welled up inside to a point it hasn't reached all month.  Santa read his poem "Send Your Babies to Bed With a Kiss" to the mommies & daddies in the room, reminding us that while these times are tough and not always fun, all too soon our children will be grown, and we won't be able to kiss them goodnight every night -- and we will truly miss these days.  My heart was so full, being able to kiss my sweet boy and push the hair back from his forehead...yet it was so heavy and hurting for the parents in CT that can no longer do such things with their little ones.

So I am consciously stopping myself from dwelling on my own sadness.  I'm realizing that most of the worries that I currently carry on my shoulders are minimal and will quickly dissipate...that there is always hope and beauty in every situation.  And I am turning my holiday spirit around.  I am soaking in the joy in every little moment, and ignoring the "what ifs" that linger.  Today and every day, I will soak in the little moments.  I will embrace the tantrums, and smile as I get vomited on.  I'll laugh as I accidentally stick my hand in a poopy diaper, and I'll most definitely hug and kiss my baby like it's going out of style.  I'll encourage his vocabulary and cheer as he says a new word - even if it's not quite enunciated.  I will excitedly anticipate the look on Nick's face as he opens Christmas present after Christmas present.  And while I may be cranky at the lack of sleep, I will giggle at Nick's requests to eat cheese puffs for breakfast - and I may just let him on occasion - because tomorrow is not promised, but the memories we make today, are. 

Current state of the Toddler

Nick turned 22 months at the beginning of December.  And now it's practically mid-December and I realized it's been quite some time since I did any sort of update on my almost-two-year-old.

Let me just start by saying thank you to the big man upstairs for finally pulling Nick out of that nearly 3 week funk he was in.  We were certain he'd hit the terrible two's a few months early, on account of every.freaking.day was a struggle, another temper tantrum, another sleepless night, another meltdown due to the smallest, stupidest things.

Turns out it was most likely the remnants of those damn eye-teeth cutting through (suckers were 10x worse than the 1 year molars if ya can believe that), combined with a massive growth spurt (which I touched on in a past post).  And of course, no sooner had the eye-teeth popped in, and the growth spurt evened out, than Nick acquired another horrific cold...one that he's still trying to shake by way of coughing like a 68 year old Marlboro-red smokin' old lady (phlegm and all!).  It's one of those kinds of coughs that when you're out in public and all of a sudden your kid starts coughing so hard he sounds like he's going to retch all over the grocery store floor, you turn deep red, bury his entire face inside your jacket (praying he doesn't suffocate in there) and whip your head back and forth (a la willow smith) to make sure no bystanders are judging your method of parenting.  Seriously, though - can somebody make a cough and cold medicine for toddlers that is actually effective AND safe??  You'll dominate the market while simultaneously making a LOT of very tired mommies very happy.  Swears.

Moving on...now that we're over/at the tail end of all of that general icky-ness, things are just plain old stinkin' fun in the K household.  Having a two year old is awesome.  SO flipping awesome.  Especially when he sleeps through the night, but I digress...

Nick is still not talking much, but has acquired a few new intelligible words including "Go" "Doggie" (thanks to my brother's new puppy, which seemed to cause Nick to own that word like he'd been saying it his whole life!) "Hot" (ok, he already had this one) "Vacuum" (which sounds more like 'vaaababa!' but is way close by Nick standards and we totally know what he means every time he says it) "Hi" "Gramma" (which sounds like Gaagaa, but melts her heart regardless.  He also calls my dad this same word even though we are still referring to my dad as "Boss"...guess a kid knows a grandparent when they see one) "No" "Yeh" (for yes) "DaDa!" "Maaaamamamama" (only when he's upset or angry, ha!) and the ever popular "Dora" (which sounds like Doooorahhh - and yes, he says this one all.the.time.)

Aside from his lack of verbal communication - which we are still working on every other week with our fabulous speech therapist Ms. Kerry, who Nick took to like she was offering up free ice cream or something (for real though, she has some awesome toys) - Nick is growing and learning with leaps and bounds.  He knows every letter of the alphabet, and not just in alphabetical order.  He knows almost all his shapes, all of his numbers 1-10, most animals, a few colors (this one has been the toughest to work on) and damn near every other single thing we say.  Most recently he has learned all the hand motions to "itsy bitsy spider" and "I'm a little teapot", which is seriously the cutest thing in the world.

He gives the best hugs ever, and greets whoever picks him up from daycare in the afternoon by running at you full speed, squealing with delight, and practically jumping in your arms to bury his little face in yours - arms around your neck - squeezing like he hasn't seen you in weeks.  Best part of my day.

His play time has evolved immensely and he's using his imagination so much more every day - pushing cars around the room, making sure each of his trucks has a driver in the driver seat (whichever little character he can find), pretending to stir and "cook" with toy spoons and dishes - and then "taking a bite" of whatever he "made" and saying "mmmm!" 
He concentrates on puzzles, knows how to wind up his tiny wind-up toys, and hugs and kisses all of his stuffed animals.  He loves playing with play-do, reading books, and pushing his trains around the floor.  And if it's something he can climb on?  You better believe he'll be standing on top of it, seconds from falling off, clapping and laughing at the panic washing over my face as I dive to catch him before he breaks a bone.  yikes.

As far as current eating habits go, eating has never been a huge deal to Nick.  He eats when he's hungry, but he's never been thoroughly interested in food - unless it's snack food related.  He could live off of goldfish, cheerios, pretzels, yogurt melts, and any kind of chip out there -- particularly tortilla, if he had to choose.  He prefers veggies over anything else on his plate, but don't dare give him processed foods or he throws a fit.  Those Gerber toddler meals?  He down right refuses to eat them.  The squeezy pouches are a different story though - he sucks those down like water.  And we're guaranteed to get a good meal in him if we eat at Chipotle.  Homeboy can chow down on some black beans, cilantro rice, and corn salsa.  We've introduced him to various types of juice, which he'll drink (specifically if it's out of a juice box...he loves those) but he still prefers water or milk over anything else.  So much so, that last weekend when we were at Costco and had forgotten to get him milk with his lunch, he ran over to the milk case, pointing at all the milk jugs and signing "milk".  We had to make a stop at 7-11 after that just to grab him some milk.  He was very grateful.

With Nick's recent growth spurt comes the need to sort through his clothes, again.  I had just bought him a bunch of 18-24 clothes at the beginning of the season, because he was still fitting so perfectly into 18 month and swimming in 24 month clothes, that I was certain the 18-24 month stuff would get him through the winter.  Silly mommy.  When he shot up two inches practically over night, all of his 18 month pants became high waters, and his 18 month footie pj's?  Forget it.  We've had to purchase all new 24 month and 2T jammies so he has something to wear at night.  Fortunately we had quite a few pairs of 24 month pants and enough shirts, but at the rate he's growing, he'll be well into 3T by spring.  Of course he didn't put on any weight as he shot up, so he's still skinny and 24 month pants are super loose around his waist.  Seems like outfitting a growing toddler is a consistently losing battle.  Let's not even talk about shoes, shall we?  Nick is in a size 6 shoe already, and rapidly outgrowing it.  Apparently we'll be buying new shoes every 4-5 months for the next 15 years, as well.  Todd can't believe that a pair of Nick's tennis shoes cost damn near the same as his own.

He's funny, kind, sweet, innocent, ornery, occasionally impatient, a tad stubborn, and ridiculously adorable.  His smile goes from ear-to-ear, and he's rarely unhappy.  His daddy and I are his best friends, and while I know it's naive of me to think, I hope it always stays that way. 

The past 22 months have been the most challenging and simultaneously most rewarding months of our lives.  I can barely remember life before Nick, but what I can remember is that there was a piece of me that was never fully whole.  These past 22 months have been so fulfilling.  Sleeplessness, and all.  Because of Nick, I am whole.

Like I said, having an almost-two-year-old is awesome.  Completely awesome.