The monsoons have rolled in this week. It feels so good to have clouds in the afternoon and hear the gentle hum of the evap cooler. I could get lost in these afternoons.
We've eaten so much fruit this summer, I wonder if we'll get tired of it. Rainer cherries, watermelon, peaches, raspberries, blueberries (mostly Costco-portions) Yum...summer. I think I might have developed a little crush on you.
Yesterday was hot. The hottest day of summer, so far. I woke up grouchy (very grouchy.) I thought you weren't supposed to get back an unpleasant visitor when you breastfeed, but apparently, my body just can't survive without it. I felt like I was 13 again, dreading the week of every month. Haha. I also woke up hungry, which is just never a good sign of how the morning will pan out. It was a hot night and Zoey wanted to eat most of it so I was feeling a little sleep deprived. Plus, I knew it was supposed to be almost 100 degrees. Not that I should complain, the rest of America has been a lot more uncomfortable lately.
I, just, don't really dig hot weather.
But yesterday I decided to cheer up and embrace it. How bad could it be? I mean, come on, it's not Phoenix. It's Prescott. There's still afternoon clouds, trees, water...
So, Jack and I dug out the little kiddie pool, filled it with very hot (but soon cool) water and he swam around with his trucks while I soaked my toes. And man, did it feel good. We ate popsicles and chatted the morning away. I caught up on things on the social media side of things and he had a big truck to tow in the water.
It was all good until I got the bright idea to give him a bath out there. His hair had begun to stink (like a 2 year old's summer hair should) and it needed to be washed. I tried to make it sound fun; brought out bubbles and a wash cloth, but he did not like the idea. He didn't like the cold water against his bare skin and he did not like the idea of getting a bath outside. It just isn't meant to happen! It was pretty hilarious and I quickly agreed to let him go into the bath tub. As he sat down in his familiar environment he sighed, "I like my bath tub, mama. Not outside."
Okay, buddy. Okay.
Jack likes his routine, his consistency...he likes things just the way they are. (Kind of sounds like another guy in our house..oh, and me.)
So when I suggested he move to a big boy bed and let Zoey have his crib he looked optimistic at first, but when he realized what that actually meant. Oh, no.
"Mama, I like my bed. It my favorite. Zoey sleep in your bed."
Which is true, but she's getting for her own space and Jackboy is in need of a big boy bed and pull ups and no more pacifier (Wow. Re-reading that makes me sound like I really want him to grow up. That's not it.) I just can tell he's ready. Every step of the way I wanted to be patient with him and let him go at his own pace. I didn't push tummy time, I waited until he seemed ready for rice cereal, he slept with us until 7 months (and until he was rolling in circles all night long.) I waited those extra months before moving him to the big boy carseat, because I wanted to make sure he was ready. But it was incredible how quickly he readjusted and embraced the new season. The more I tended to push change, the more he resisted. Going from two naps to one? Took him a while, but when he adjusted, wow. It was wonderful. It seems the older he gets, the harder it gets to change his routine. Which makes complete sense. I reckon it will keep getting more difficult the older he gets. He's human and a man of routine. I love it.
I kept trying to coax him into the idea of a big boy bed until he climbed into his crib, laid down on his pillow and yelled.
"No, mama! It my bed!"
But I just have this feeling that once he's in a big boy bed, he will love it. Once he lets me set his little toosh on the toilet, he will love it! (He will also enjoy the incentives we have for him in the garage.) He knows it's coming, but I don't want to push it. I know he'll get there, but I know he can do it. He's a strong kiddo and change, unfortunately, is a very real, central part to life. I just hope I can teach him how to adjust with joy and grace. I imagine this is the whole dilemma that causes mom-anxiety and teenage angst.
Oh, Lord, give me grace.
And some thunderstorms this week. Please.