February is turning out to be a very "mommy-moment" filled month for me. My baby, B-boy, turned two in December and I realized that it was time to start putting baby thing away. Weaning (yes, two years of breastfeeding is recommended by the WHO and BB kept getting sick everytime I tried to wean her till she was two, not taking chances with the only Powell boy) began in December. Luckily it has been going slowly because B-boy was the only one who didn't get this horrible flu and I think my supermom antibodies in the milk were the reason. But this month we've been taking the BIG steps. First, the toddler bed was ordered (Cars of course) and received. When Daddy brought in the bed set (bed, table, chairs, toy organizer, etc), B-boy started screaming with delight shouting "Vroom, vroom!" I tried, while still sick with the flu, to put together the toy organizer while Daddy made dinner. I managed to get it almost done, with some screws still sticking partway out, before having to rest. The next day, I found Daddy and B-boy in his room putting together the bed. Well, Daddy was putting it together while B-boy was handing Daddy every part he didn't need. When the bed was done B-boy proudly sat upon it eating the ice cream I had given him in a failed attempt to get him to leave Daddy alone. He didn't leave the bed all night. It wasn't until 5am that he woke and realized he was alone and there were no boobies close by. Our brave little boy made his was down the hall, through the kitchen, and down another hall to Mommy and Daddy's room, crying the entire time. This has turned into our routine minus the crying (mostly) for the last three weeks. My bed is my own now, but I do miss my warms baby boy curled in my arms. And then.....
Daddy and I had been debating about B-boy's curls. To me they were baby-curls, to Daddy "it" was a mullet. So after much thought, which was actually my mother telling me how little old ladies were telling her what a pretty little girl HE was and when are we getting her ears pierced, I decided to let go of this last bit of babyhood. He is afterall a boy, all boy, car playing, hair-pulling, cat throwing boy. (Later I will explain my theory about boys being an entirely different species from girls) So I told my mom I was ready for his hair to be cut. She said ok and left out the details. I didn't know what day it would happen, I just didn't want to be there because I knew I would cry. Strong women don't cry... yeah, right. They just don't cry in front of their children because mommies are supposed to be strong. The resulting little boy (no longer baby boy) was just so cute and so different. I'll swear that he even carries himself with more of a big-boy attitude. And with that attitude came the word ~ no! He has learned the word no and I am hearing it almost as often as I ask for a kiss. It seems like in a few days he'll be asking me to drop him off a block from school, he already thinks farts are funny.
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