Yesterday you turned five. I think this was the first birthday where you really understood how special a birthday is and I’ve never seen you so excited. The moment the calendar read “July” it was all you could talk about. While the theme of the day may have changed 100 times (you went from Hot Wheels to Thomas the Tank Engine to Chuggington), the details of how it would be in your mind were exactly as you wanted it. Cupcakes in red, blue, yellow and green, balloons in the same colors, presents and, your special wish, Kool-Aid.

You were convinced that Five was a magical number. Five makes you run faster, jump higher and give you super powers. You were done with Four. Four was so last year. When you are Five you know more things and make good choices and get special priveledges – you also get a dollar more in allowance a week. Yes, to you, Five was everything.

A lot happened the year you were Four. You made some new friends and got to go on field trips at school and started swimming lessons. You started to learn to ride your bike and finally finished enough ice skating lessons to be able to play hockey this fall and you went to Sunday School for the first time. You discovered you liked fried chicken sliders but not hamburger sliders, got all your long curls cut down like a handsome big boy and graduated from preschool. You discovered Pokemon and water slides and new movies and what it was like to be on Zayde’s big boat.

It was a big year.

Some other things happened, too. You started speech therapy to work on an adorable, but now-time-to-be-fixed tongue thrust and while we were there some other things were noticed, too. After some questions and concerns and some paper work and some discussions you were diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder. We found out that all those things that we were chalking up to being a boy were really some wonky stuff with your central nervous system. So, on top of all the great things you were doing during The Year of Four, you also started OT and some therapy with Miss Maria.

See, all those things that made you a party in shoes were not always a party for you. Sounds were too loud and friends were not falling in line with your special plans and life was getting hard for you. You were getting nervous and confused and frustrated and sad – and your tender heart didn’t know what to do with it all – so we’ve moved mountains and schedules and finances and our own approaches to help you catch up to Five.

I’m so glad we did. You are working so hard and you are becoming such a special little boy. At your birthday party yesterday you thanked everyone and hugged everyone and loved everything and really appreciated the moment. There are lots of things I will remember about the First Day of Five, but none more than you coming over to sit next to me in bed at the end of the day, resting your head on my shoulder, looking up at me and saying, “That was the birthday party was so special, Mommy. Thank you for making it that way.”

No, buddy, thank you. I’m so glad you’re five.

Inspired by Beth, I interviewed you on your Last Day of Four so that I could capture forever you at Four. Here is what you said:

Mom: So, Benjamin, what is tomorrow?
Benjamin: My birthday.

Mom: How old are you going to be?
Benjamin: Five. One whole hand!

Mom: What do you want for breakfast?
Benjamin: If I’m a special boy I would like Cheerios.

Mom: What did you love about being Four?
Benjamin: I liked running around really fast.

Mom: Who is your favorite person?
Benjamin: Koko from Chuggington

Mom: What is your favorite color?
Benjamin: My favorite color is red and green.

Mom: What is your favorite TV show?
Benjamin: My favorite TV show is Chuggington.

Mom: What is your favorite food?
Benjamin: Oh, that’s easy. My favorite food is waffles!

Mom: What’s your favorite vegetable?
Benjamin: My favorite vegetable is tomatoes.

Mom: Your favorite fruit?
Benjamin: My favorite fruit is blueberries and grapes.

Mom: Tomorrow, on your birthday, can I kiss you 100 times?
Benjamin: Uh, no.

Mom: Why?
Benjamin: Because I don’t like kisses on my birthday.

Mom: Oh, well, how many hours can I hug you?
Benjamin: One. No, two.

Mom: Would you rather have a cupcake or a donut?
Benjamin: I would rather have a cupcake!

Mom: How much do you love your mommy?
Benjamin: I love my mommy 255.

Mom: How much do you love Leah?
Benjamin: I like Leah 365 days.

Mom: How much do you love your daddy?
Benjamin: I like Daddy 255 also.

Mom: What is something that scares you?
Benjamin: Monsters.

Mom: How many trains do you have?
Benjamin: I have a whole bunch like 365.

Mom: What would happen if they all disappeared?!
Benjamin: I would LOOK AROUND!

Mom: What do you want for your birthday?
Benjamin: Chuggington Launch & Go Roundhouse

Mom: A few days ago you told me you had a friend who was a nice electric eel. What sorts of things do you guys do together?
Benjamin: We play and shop.
Mom: What do you shop for?
Benjamin: For Chuggington toys and sets. We also like to race. And Leah was racing, too. The only guys that won it were me and the electric eel.

Mom: How excited are you to be turning five?
Benjamin: Super duper like 365 miles away excited!

Mom: Do you know how much your Mommy loves you?
Benjamin: Yes. 365.

That’s right, buddy. I love you 365. And 24/7 and any other combination of always and forever. Welcome to Five, Benjamin. I can’t wait to see what this year brings you.

Love,
Mommy

1. Fever or general illness.

2. Didn’t sleep well.

3. He’s TWO, dumbass.

4. Rampant Obama commercials.

5. He stuck a raisin up his nose and no one noticed.

Yep. 45 minutes later. He’s a genius that one.

You would think with the second child it would be a bit easier. You would be kinda wrong.

I say kinda because there is no anticipation anxiety. There is little “unknown” with number two. It’s more a matter of “when” vs. “what”.

Today Benjamin slept in his toddler bed for the first time. Today I rolled his crib out of his room. Today was the last day a crib will be used in this house. And today, just like five years ago with Swimmy, I was sad.

Today’s sad had the extra side order of Lightly Sauteed Mourning because while Swimmy was done with her crib for the time being, I knew someone else later on would be using it and I’d see a little face peering over the guard rail smiling a toothless grin one day.

But this time it’s permanent. This time I heard the distinct sound of large metal doors slamming shut and a heavy deadbolt being thrown to lock them. And it made my heart a little heavier.

Every day it’s getting harder to call him my Baby. Every day he looks more and more like a little Boy. And today, looking at him snuggling in that bed for the first time, I saw in his face an older Benjamin – a Bar Mitzvah Benjamin, a high-school Benjamin – a man.

I almost wheeled that crib right back in the room. But I didn’t.

I just tucked his Elmo under his arm and kissed his sleeping head. Then I prayed he’d still take his two hour nap. This shit takes it out of me.

Oh what a difference a month can make. With a new set of healthy ears and nary a snotty nose in sight you have taken on the world full force. (Like there is any other way?) Your biggest milestone so far in your tiny life was one I had been dreading for awhile now.

You got your hair cut.

Okay, I know it’s silly, but that big mess of curls you sport became your trademark and I was beginning to think of the old bible story about Samson – if we cut your hair you’d lose your powers of cute. Man, was I wrong. I’ll admit you didn’t look quite like yourself right after it happened – the beautician used some mousse on you (which, really? HUH?), but shortly you began to become Benjamin again and charmed the pants off everyone. And, for the record, you didn’t enjoy yourself, but you were a real trooper and are now more handsome than ever.

You continue to go to speech therapy and have the best time there. Because they do play therapy you have no idea you are actually “working” on your language and you think it’s just another cool gymnasium for you to attack. Your newest words are, not surprisingly, “outside”, “puppy”, “meat” and “MINE!” (yes, pronounced just like that). When you get excited about something you start going through a litany of people you know who, apparently, must be informed RIGHT NOW about said excitement. It goes a little something like this:

Me: Benjamin! Look! A frog on the couch!

Benjamin: OOH! Daddy! Mommy! Sissy! Zayde! Go-Dee (Go, Diego, Go!)

We’re not sure how Diego became part of the Circle of Trust, but there he is.

Like every other month, you seemed to have contracted some small tushie-bug and your diapers are not only LOVELY, but irritating your delicateness. The pediatrician suggested we let you run around with no diaper on outside and I thought that was an excellent idea. We had such success before –and such awesome pictures. It did, indeed, help and I got these cute pictures in return.

In other small news, on the playground you only want to slide on the Big Slides. At the Little Gym you want to hang from the bars. You don’t want to hold my hand on a walk. You prefer to get your own snack from the pantry. You loved to get splashed with water – in the tub or not. You love bubbles – but prefer eating the wand to learning how to blow them.

When we go to the grocery store you want to eat a banana while I shop. You have finally stopped asking for the damned DVD player in my car to be on ALWAYS and have started letting me listen to some music. Occasionally I sneak in an Opie and Anthony replay, but now that you’re starting to listen and repeat words, that’s not such a good plan any more.

You don’t want to walk on the balance beam or flip over the bar. You think my hair dryer is going to eat me. You must sleep with four stuffed Sesame Street friends and one stuffed fireman in bed with you. You think strawberries are gifts from G-d (you are totally spot on there). As far as you’re concerned, The Swimmy’s friends are your friends, too, and you should get to play with them always.

Last week was your last week of school. Today starts the Mommy and Benjamin show and we’ve done pretty well together so far. I have no idea what tomorrow will look like, but you and I make good adventurers.

And you, my little man, are one serious adventure all by yourself.

I love you,

Mommy

Little Man, this month has been a doozie.

To start with, you were sick for its majority. Recurrent ear infections (many undetected) kept you out of school and Daddy and I out of the office for almost all of it. With no other options to heal you medically, we had no choice but to cure you surgically. Ear tubes it is!

We had a surgery date scheduled and were preparing for it and, lo and behold, you got a cold. This meant you still couldn’t go to school and I couldn’t go to work and after having a few other medical issues piled on our family here and there it was pretty damned clear that it was time for Daddy and I to stop, stand still for a minute, and make a huge decision. It was time for me to stop working. For real. This perfect storm of consequences and pressure (which, by the way, were completely resolved once you did get your ear tubes – of course) led us to a very new phase in our lives. One where we live like grownups.

Being home with you while you were sick was difficult because I had so much to handle from a work perspective. But seeing how much you loved having me home – whether you felt good or not – was a very clear message.

We were waiting for you to be well to start speech therapy consistently for your speech delay. It’s pretty clear that delay was due to your ears. If you can’t hear, you can’t talk. Since the surgery you are readjusting to your new world of sounds and working very hard on talking. You love going to speech and Miss Lisa thinks you are quite possibly the cutest boy on the planet. She is, of course, correct.

Every day you have a new sound you are willing to try and every day you get better at saying the words you already like. But the other day, in the middle of a crowded grocery store, you came running to me saying “Mommy”. And it just about took my breath away. I’ve heard you practicing these sounds while you play quietly and while you are in your bed, but you had never really used it in context. I know it’s not very badass to tear up in front of the milk section, but I did. And I thought for a moment how you being able to hear clearly now gave you “new ears”. In that moment, hearing “Mommy “ for the first time, it was like I got new ears, too.

Your hearing and speaking issues never slowed you down for one hot minute in terms of your physical prowess. You want to climb up the playground and slide down the big slides, run across the bouncy bridge and chase every duck that comes near our house. You are fearless in your pursuit of fun and play. You are social and will roll with anything the group is doing. You? Are a BOY.

For the first time ever, we tried a little playgroup at the synagogue in our neighborhood. Mommy hasn’t really done that scene before and was praying the whole way over you would like it, behave well and have fun. We got there and it was like you had been there for years. I’m glad you liked it, because these little friends will be your classmates in a little preschool program for the next few years. Try not to run over any of them. Mommy needs friends.

Benjamin, every time I think of you it is an image of your wild, curly blonde hair with the sun bouncing off of it in a burst of light and your blue eyes just radiating. I’ve never seen anyone with a smile like yours – one that comes up from your toes, through your heart, leaps off your face and bodyslams you with glee. You are all at once a mess, a joy, a laugh, a hug, a tackle and a tickle. You wear me out and lift me up all in the course of a day.

Wednesday I say goodbye to what is mostly the last line on my resume. Thursday begins a whole new job. But I like the benefits with this one a whole bunch. And one day soon you and I are gonna spend an entire day in our pajamas.

Love,

Mommy

This is what my household has been dealing with for weeks. WEEKS.

Benjamin has had ear infection after ear infection after ear infection and, oh, yeah, he’s having trouble hearing. REALLY? NO SHIT?!

Because of this latest round of antibiotics, he developed a severe diaper rash that was moderated slightly by a prescription tushie cream, but that didn’t work for long because now his delicate little tushie has a raging yeast infection that I swear if you saw it would not only start crying but would want to take him to the hospital.

(If, um, you happened to see it 87 times a day. Every day. Just sayin’.)

Today I took him back to the ENT only to find out, huh, yeah, he might have been almost cleared up for 2 days, but his left ear is again infected.

Of course it is.

It is clear this cannot be fixed medically and therefore the Mighty Mighty Benjamite is gonna have some Mighty Mighty Ear Tube surgery this Friday.

To say the past 4 weeks have been difficult is the understatement of the century. Schedules have been blown to hell, jobs have been put at risk, tears have been shed, germs have been passed around (and around again), I have a standing Saturday appointment at the pediatrician’s office now and Husband and I are g-ddamned exhausted.

We didn’t want it to come to this, but after seeing the effects these things are having on his hearing and speech development, there is no other option. So hopefully on the back end of this we’ll have a little boy who is well, can clearly hear Mommy and Daddy say, “I love you,” can get our life out from under medications and doctor’s offices and actually give him a chance to say “milk” correctly.

But until then, I’ll be slathering his ass with ointments, pouring amoxicillin down his throat and a corresponding nice pinot down mine.

Today you are twenty months old. It’s also St. Patrick’s Day. It seems only fitting we celebrate this with a beer or nine. Actually, we’d be driven to that anyway given your recent level of activity and mischievousness. The other day you were playing in my makeup drawer – or rather, I was letting you play in my makeup drawer so that I might get five minutes of time to get myself together before you slobbered all over me again – and you found a favorite Laura Mercier Secret Camouflage concealer that I lurrrvvv. The last thing I recall is you running out of the room with it.

I haven’t seen it since. You owe me $28.00. Pay up. I need that to cover the dark circles under my eyes that YOU have contributed to.

The past few weeks have been filled with you trying so hard to say things that you truly believe you are saying – and are so proud to have said it – but we’re not quite there yet on most. You say “Daddy” really well. And apparently I am Daddy as well. So far we know that “beh-beh” is baby, “mee” is milk, “mmmm” is the moo sound of a cow, a monkey is “ooh-ooh, aah-aah” (totally cute) and “ma” is more.

You have fallen in love with a certain Sesame Street DVD that teaches letters and now can recognize the letter “B” – which just about floored me. You also love to sing along with Ernie and Bert for the La La song (or, Letter “L” for those of you playing the home game) and squeal every time it’s time for Cookie Monster to sing the “C” is for Cookie song.

For a while, Daddy has been dropping hints that maybe, just maybe, we should cut your hair. It’s only because Daddy has never had to deal with curls. And Daddy has seen what Mommy has had to deal with in terms of curls. It scares Daddy. Daddy fears The Curl. But, this month, he has slacked up on that request a bit. I believe your curls have charmed the pants right off of him (a fine look, I might add). And I think we’re just fine.

You continue to worship your big sister, Swimmy. You guys are often in trouble together for being Entirely Too Loud, which I’m sure will be your band name of choice later in life. You wait outside her bathroom hoping she will let you in while she’s in the tub. You wait outside her room while she changes clothes. When we drop her off at school in the morning you watch her walk all the way into the school wistfully wondering when you’ll see her again. It’s precious to watch you guys together – even if it sometimes requires Advil to soothe the pounding in my head.

Recently the weather has turned nice and we’ve had a chance to eat outside on our patio. We schlepped your chair out there and strapped you in with your hair blowing in the breeze and you thought this was the coolest thing ever. We did, too. And I hope it’s the beginning of a lot more times like that.

This month you have been assigned a job. You are the Keeper of the Keys. Whenever we go on our walks to the mailbox, you get to hold the mailbox key. It started out as a way to distract you so that you would actually hold my hand to walk down there. Now it is Your Responsibility and you take it Very Seriously. Along the way we point to the ducks, look at the grass and flowers and the occasional crazy dog or cat that passes by. We only have to walk about 5 houses, but for awhile it seemed to take forever. I have been working on being “present” for these little moments and it is making this time even more enjoyable.

The summer is coming up and lots of things are in store for you, Little Man. There will be swimming lessons and vacations with Dodi & Zayde and a new little playgroup for you somewhere along the way. We’ll keep working on your words but mostly we’ll just enjoy hanging out with you. Thanks for letting keep a little ray of sunshine in my pocket every day.

I love you –

Mommy

Oh, is THAT why he’s been so cranky?

I just thought he was being an asshole.

My bad.

pfft.

Again, Mommy’s a little late. But you see, Little Dude, there has been much afoot around your home these past weeks and, well, the blogging? Notsomuch.

What a bunch of months. Really.

Although you are truly becoming quite the little person each day, there is a lot that happened to you these months that you have no idea about. First, you lost your grandfather after a hard-fought, six-month battle against lung cancer. You may not have a lot of memories of your Grandpa Gene, but, believe me, he loved you very much. We’ve gone through a lot of his things at his house and come across some of his baby pictures and OH MY G-D it’s YOU! Blue eyes and all.

As you grow up, you’ll hear a lot about your Grandpa Gene – and we’ll still get to see him in your face. It’s obvious you have his eyes, but I also hope you have his heart, intellect and kindness. And, don’t worry, he’s around watching you play, learn and grow. This we know.

In the middle of all this your Daddy and I decided we’d pull the trigger on a unique opportunity that presented itself to us and sell our house. You were a real trooper about all the cleaning and the putting away and all the endless showings that were constantly disrupting dinners. To you, it was just another adventure to Dodi and Zayde’s house for hours on end – and that is never bad!

Shortly after you turned 15 months we moved to our new house. We painted your room the same to help the transition, but I know this was a big change for you. But look at it this way…you gained STAIRS which you love to climb, regardless of what I think. And you handled it like a champ – it was if the other house never existed, which surprised me a little.

For many months you weren’t saying any words really clearly or consistently which might have caused me to anxiously Google “speech delay” at 7:30 in the morning one day, but, that’s okay. I can tell you’re working on it. Still. Diligently. And I’ll be patient. At 14 months you started saying “Dada” a little more regularly and when you point to a picture of Daddy and the other night actually busted out with “Nigh-Nigh” when I said Night-Night. These days you scream “DAAADDDYYY!” when he comes home in the evenings, but still no other “real” words. You are, however, having some very intent discussions with Elmo and Ernie. I hope they’re listening, otherwise it appears there’ll be hell to pay.

A few months ago you started pointing at things when I say a word or when you want me to say a word. These days we label and name EVERYTHING. Your favorite game is sitting at the dinner table pointing to everyone to make me say their names as fast as you can point. You have a little flat, wood, barn-looking toy with doors that flip open which hide a chicken, a cow and a horse. It is your favorite toy currently and you spend all kinds of time flipping those doors open and pointing to those three animals and grinning when I say their names and what sound they make. You also love to point at a picture of Daddy and I in The Swimmy’s room each morning and say “Da!”. You point to a picture of ArtsyDaughter as well, but you can’t pronounce her name yet. But at the end of this exercise you break into a huge grin – and that’s a great way to wake up each morning.

Your other favorite things to do this month are anything having to do with diapers. You love to play with them, take them out of the bags, walk around with them and have them changed. All I have to do is say “Let’s get a diapee!” and you drop what you’re doing, pop right up and run as fast as your little legs can take you to our room laughing and smiling the whole time. And you MUST see what Sesame Street character is on the diaper before we put it on. MUST. In case you were wondering, Ernie is your favorite. What a dude.

You finally got a taste of ice cream from your Zayde and, for a while, did actually say “iiii—seeem” when you wanted some. You know it’s in the freezer and you are not shy about walking over and pointing to it. We have undoubtedly created a frozen treat monster. Dats my boy.

The other major change for you is that we let your Nanny and our Housekeeper, Maria, go last month. It was a long time coming, but we finally did it and now you go to a little school The Swimmy attended in our neighborhood. The first few days were a little rough, but now you love it. You laugh, play, eat, sleep and learn happily every day. I love to see your art work that you make and I notice you are trying harder than ever to talk. Your teachers adore you and you love to go outside on their very cool playground.

The backlash for this has been that you have gotten sick. Not major fever or throwing up sick, but equally as painful viruses that causes awful little sores to pop up on your tongue. They kept you from eating or drinking, which made you hungry, which kept you from sleeping, which kept US from sleeping and the whole mess started over again for 10 glorious days. It over now. For you. Somehow I now have the damn things and they do, indeed, suck.

You had to take antibiotics, which tore up your stomache and caused some messy, but oddly odor-free diaper explosions. This made you cute little tushie a little raw and the pediatrician told us to let you walk around outside with no diaper on to allow air to get to it. You thought this was a WONDERFUL idea. I watched you pee all over our brand new deck. Either way, it made you feel better and we got pictures like this in exchange.

Finally, you love your Little Gym class that you play at every Saturday. Today was your “graduation” where you got a ribbon and got to show everyone how awesome you are at throwing your little self about. I now see why Daddy comes home so tired after those. Here is some video of you below that should pretty much be titled “Why We Don’t Have Enough Insurance”.

Not Enough Insurance from Pammer on Vimeo.

Benjamin, you are my Little Buddy. Everything about you from your messy smile to your sparkling blue eyes to the mop o’ blonde curls that stack up on the top of your head makes me smile. I never understood how boys could be “sweet”, but because of you I now get it. And I’m so glad I got you.

Love,

Mommy