Britton lately

Long gone are the days when I would set Britton down in a spot, leave the room, and return to find him in the exact same spot. Noting in our house is safe anymore... He has discovered almost all of my hiding places and destroyed their existence. His favorite new discovery? My wallet.
He excitedly pulls out all my cards, carries them to the nearest slot he can find, and drops them in. Then, if the cards are unreachable, he turns to me and says "Dah!" Which roughly translates to, "Mom, I dropped it in there, now you get it out!"

His other obsession is keys...so much that after him losing it every time I had to take the keys away to start the car or lock the front door, I scrounged the house and found him some old keys that can now be claimed as his and (hopefully) aren't needed for anything.It's amazing to me that he knows exactly what the keys do- except that we're quickly learning by mommy's yelps that keys do NOT go in the outlets. (Outlet covers? Yeah...good try. He figured how to pull those out months ago.)

The ability to use a fork and spoon is one that we are encouraging a lot now. He fought it at first because the food enters his tummy faster when mommy does it, but he's getting so much better that now it's become a fun challenge to him. He still gets a little frustrated, but when he does shovel a bite into his mouth, the expression on his face is priceless.



He completely adores Grandma and Grandpa, which is awesome most of the time, until he gets in trouble and runs to Grandma for sympathy... Little stinker got that one figured out. He runs his choppy little run to the door when he hears that they're coming, and yells in excitement when "ma-maw" and "da" are coming.

And speaking of the run, that is an art Britton has yet to accomplish without injury. Below see evidence of this sequence... Britton walking down sidewalk. Britton quickens his walk to a run when he spots the mailbox (which he knows that keys go into). Mommy sees Britton start to run and takes off running herself to try and intercept the little hobbler. Britton's oversized head can't handle the speed of his feet and plummets to the sidewalk. Mommy reaches him and scoops him up as his wail echoes off the neighbor's houses. A large Superman sign-shaped mother-of-all-brusises appears on Britton's forehead. >sigh< The end to an eventful day...

I have yet to figure out my toddler... this child who wakes up at 10:45 one morning and 7:30 the next with no alteration in our usual bedtime routine. (Thus explains my appearance today- no time for a shower!)
For breakfast he was thrilled to see a pancake on his tray, but after munching contentedly for a few minutes, he started throwing it on the floor (and saying "no" because he KNOWS he is not supposed to throw things on the floor) and signing "cracker." Who chooses dry, boring old crackers over fresh, moist pancakes? Apparently, Britton does.
He is learning to use a fork and spoon, which is way fun! But, after several attempts of stabbing, if the piece of food cannot be stabbed, he will pick it up in his hand and place it on the prongs, put it in his mouth, and clap! Success in any form.
He has more toys (thanks to grandma) than three other children combined, yet his favorite pastime is pulling all mommy's tupperware out of the cabinet and spreading it across the floor.
He'd rather use the remote control to turn the fan on and off than do almost anything else... other than carry around my keys and cell phone, that is. But his toy cell phone has no appeal... >sigh<
This blog is being cut short because presently he is "rearranging" the DVDs in the case and inserting blocks and (surprise!) tupperware!

Missing.

Tonight I am especially missing my best friend. She has been my best friend since we were in kindergarten. We were two little girls with one heart... She the brunette, I the blond. She the meek and acquiescent, and I the schemer who's flighty ideas have been known to land us in trouble. Aged pictures show us cheek to rosy cheek, hair mussed and shoes untied, smiling toothless grins and dragging Barbies and Cabbage Patch dolls behind us. Scarce are my childhood memories without her in them.
Our sleepovers would usually end up with me tickling her feet and making her laugh so loudly that my dad would sternly warn us several times to be quiet before making me go sleep with my brother instead. We would spend lazy summer days watching movies over and over or playing in giant mud sinkholes at the lake. We complained about our brothers, cried over the death of pets, and sang as loudly as we could in the back of the van. We would invent our own recipes and attempt extravagant culinary masterpieces that on occasion ended in flour fights, wasted ingredients and irritated mothers.
I remember the day after church when she asked me about Jesus and we sat on the beach and talked about salvation. We were only 10 and yet my heart soared knowing that she would be my best friend in and for eternity.
I pulled out some of her teeth, and she was there the day I fell off the playground set in the backyard and a fire engine and ambulance showed up at my mom's garage sale. We chattered about boys and new clothes and thought we were hot stuff being dropped off at the mall for a couple hours alone.
My family moved away and our friendship was condensed to a week or so together each summer. We wrote letters and called, and then for a while we chose slightly different roads that thankfully, eventually entwined again.
We didn't get to go to Proms or high school football games together , but every time we got together after months apart, it was like no time had elapsed at all.
I remember the exact spot I was curled in on the floor in my college rental house that rainy evening when I saw her number calling on my cell phone. Instead of her normally bright and cheery voice, I heard anguish and absolute grief on the other end of the line. The next morning when I stepped out of the car after fighting tears the entire drive over the mountains, I saw and embraced a broken version of my quietly strong best friend. I didn't know what to say. If I may admit it, I still don't know what to say. I cannot understand what she went through in losing her father so tragically, all I could and can do is to open my arms and cry with her.
We stood at each others sides for our weddings and held each others hands when both of our first children entered the world. We sometimes complain about our husbands and hurriedly catch up on each others lives while making supper and balancing a phone on our shoulder and a baby on our hip.
Somewhere along these growing up years, we have felt a space seeping in between our hearts. All the focus that used to go to each other has now been spread to husbands and babies and buying houses. We sometimes speak to each others voice mail more than we do to each other.
I wish I could drop by her house for coffee in the morning, or meet her at the park and let the kids play while we chat, or push them around in strollers while we shop. I wish I could see her all the time and that the space that's ever-growing from life's quickly changing circumstances would fade away and let us be. I even wish at times that I could go back and have back those lazy summer days baking concoctions and living life through the eyes of Barbie. How I know I would cherish them now.
I am grateful for my best friend and the unspoken security that we have in each other. Each of us knows that the other would walk out on the President if the other needed a best friend moment.
She is a constant for me, a safe place to be utterly myself and the sister of my heart I believe I will always have.