Teach a boy to fish... and he feeds his parents

Every summer my sister and I would go fishing with our Pepe. Up until my late teens, I can't remember a summer that I didn't go fishing while staying up at camp. Never did I imagine on those hot days, swatting bugs and hooking perch, that years later those would be some of my most precious memories with my sister and my grandfather.

Lately, Toby has become obsessed taken an interest in fishing. Considering we spend so much time at the lake, it only made sense to start him early. Last weekend Toby went fishing for the first "official" time with his Papa and Dada.

On his first haul he brought in 9 white perch. Not too bad, kid. He absolutely loved it and was so happy and proud of the fish he caught for supper.

At the end of the weekend, after returning to New Hampshire, we cooked up his fish and made a big deal out of eating them.

It was such a satisfying experience to watch the boat come back into the dock with my son grinning from ear to ear practically bursting to tell me what he caught. I remember that excitement. It's so odd to think that 20... even 30 years ago, that was me. At the same camp, in the same boat on the same lake. I had no clue that my life would lead me where is has and that my only son, my pride and joy, would have the same expression I probably wore when we pulled up to the shore so many years ago.

While this experience would have been even better if my Pepe had been in the boat with Papa and Dada, I know he would have been proud of his namesake.

A dirty little secret... I'm okay with unremarkable.

"Comparison is the thief of joy" -Theodore Roosevelt

There is no winning when it comes to parenting. Every single time I go online there is a new article critiquing some type of parenting or parenting choice. You can find an "open letter" addressed to every type of parent out there. Coincidentally, I shared one on Facebook the other day. Y'all know the articles I'm talking about.

"To the Mother of one"
"To the Parent who doesn't feed organic"
"To the Parents who vaccinated"
"To the Mom who circumcised"
"To the Mom who fed her baby formula"

They suck you in, usually hooking you by a catchy opener like, "I see you over there..." So, we read them. All of them. We are drawn into each article; reading it word for word and nodding our head in solidarity, (or reading with fury and getting mad as hell.) When we hit the close button we either feel worse about our parenting skills or better. Either way, the articles take aim at some choice we made as a parent.

Why? Why do we do this? Why do we read them? Do we actually think that someone is going to read the article referenced and think, "Well, shit. I've been doing it wrong this whole time. Imma back this truck up and start over." I would guess that, for the majority of us, the only thing we're reconsidering as a result of the information you just shared from your mommy-board group-think is our opinion of you and the fact that you are co-parenting with Wikipedia..

Anyway, I digress.

On Mother's Day Aaron did a variety of things for me but, what struck me the most was that he told me I was a "remarkable mother." I won't go into detail about the intimate and heartfelt sentiment but, the jest of the conversation was that he appreciates how much I do for our family and how good of a Mom I am to our son. That I go out of the way to DO for him and that I am conscious and intentional about parenting.

A while ago I was chatting with a friend of mine and she and I were laughing about someone saying to her, "Your daughter just takes the most beautiful pictures. I have never seen a bad picture of _______." My brilliant friend responded, "Well, I just don't share the bad ones."

What people don't talk about (or post about) is the hum-drum parts of being a parent. The dark side of parenting. The days you feel like you're barely keeping your head above water. The nights you go to bed and linger on something insensitive you said, when you were too distracted to play, or when you just wanted to beat your head against the wall. Nobody talks about that. But it happens. Many times, there isn't anything at all remarkable about being a mom. You just get up and you do do do do do do. Later, you mentally berate yourself for everything you didn't do and then you go to bed to start over the next day. Sometimes, we might feel like we're walking around in a room of fun-house mirrors thinking, "What the F*CK is happening right now?"

Then, we go onto any/every social media site and we're met with confirmation that we suck as a parent. We are confronted by posts about the schools our children aren't attending, the music lessons we aren't giving them, the chemicals they are ingesting, the television they are watching, the play-dates they are missing and the milestones they aren't meeting. We all have those people on our newsfeed. The ones who make finger paints from scratch, the ones whose child, at 2-days-old, can recite the Gettysburg Address, or that Mom who is always doing something fun with her kid.

And for some people, I'm probably that Mom. But stay with me. I have a point.

Are you ready?

We don't post the pictures of our kid sitting in front of the television.

Remember earlier when I told you Aaron called me a remarkable mother? Well, he was probably referencing the fact that I'm always doing something for Toby. Always. And I share the things I do on Facebook because, well, I'm a narcissist who thinks my kid is just so flipping cute. And because I want to give others ideas of things to do with their child. And because I want to show my family (most of whom live over 100 miles away) the things they miss so they can feel included. And because I want to document it.

But much of it is also self-serving.

Sometimes I do all these things; the trips, the events, the activities, because the motivation is to NOT GO INSANE.

There. I said it.

My kid can't stay in the house for any length of time. If I try to make him we end up almost killing each other. He is a kid that needs to be busy. I've grown to understand that about him. I've learned to appreciate and support it instead of fight it. It has saved my sanity (and his.) But does it make me remarkable? I don't think so. But even that isn't easy either. Remember, comparision is the thief of joy.

What I don't post with the pictures of my son walking on stilts is him wacking me in the leg with one.

Or the picture of us on hike #300? It wasn't accompanied by the reality that 150 times it took me 90 minutes to get him out the door and into the car which, at some point, probably resulted in him slapping me in the face.

And for every one of these pictures...

 There is probably one of these:

Sometimes we are barely tethered to sanity with the promise of bedtime. Sometimes we stay in our pajamas all day and our child eats nothing but milk and craisins. We don't talk much about those things so we assume they're wrong.

Sometimes there is absolutely nothing remarkable about being a mom and that's okay. So, parents, when you sign into Facebook and see all the things you aren't doing for/with your child try to remember that no one is really that remarkable all the time. We only post the good ones.

XO

Three. You're breaking my heart.

I won't be able to post this tomorrow, so I'm doing it today. I'm going to get sappy. Turn back now or consider yourself warned.

One thousand ninety six days.
Twenty six thousand three hundred four hours.
One million five hundred seventy eight thousand, two hundred forty minutes.

As of tomorrow, at 3:54 PM, that's how long I've known my son.

Every parent says this but, time goes by so fast. Too fast.

I cannot believe my kid will turn three tomorrow.

Three.

There has been absolutely no part of being Toby's mother that I've hated. Sure, there have been some really hard times, but I don't expect anything to be easy. I certainly didn't see him coming. I had NO idea how much he would change me. How much he would infiltrate my every fiber, every thought, every second. I love him totally and completely.

It's so weird how a person comes to be. You decide to try for a kid and who you get is who you get. I often find myself thinking about that. I'll be driving to work and I'll think, "If we had waited one more month, or one more day, or even one more hour, we would have some other little stranger. I wouldn't have my Toby." Granted, I'd have some other little person and I wouldn't know the difference but it's so weird to think about. Toby is just right for us; for me.

Three.

In three years my life has changed so completely. When he wakes up in the morning, it always strikes me that I missed him while he slept. Sometimes, when I look at him, I'm so overcome by emotion that I almost can't bare his face. Sometimes, looking at him is like looking at the sun. How is it possible that I've felt more alive in the past three years than I did in the first thirty something? How is it possible that an eight hour work day drags on and on but three years goes so fast?

Three.

Three makes me so sad. For some reason three has been a really hard pill to swallow. One didn't bother me. Two was a piece of cake. But three. He's a person now. He talks in full sentences. He's starting to dress himself. He hasn't worn a diaper for over 6 months. He doesn't use a high-chair. He sleeps in a big boy bed. He asks for what he wants. He's three. I feel as though he's more of a boy and less of a baby.

In three years Toby has grown and is thriving. In three years my whole world has been redefined. I'm not usually at a loss for words but, I can't even grasp what he's done to me.

He has changed absolutely everything.

I keep saying I never saw him coming. But, for those who knew me before I had Toby completely understand what that means. I have always been a person to strive to accomplish more. More education, more time, more letters behind my name, and a better career. I viewed life as a destination. Not a journey.

From the moment I met Toby, he was enough. He has always been enough.

Three.

Three is so fun. And frustrating. And bittersweet. And humbling. And exhausting. But, he's so curious and kind and energetic. He takes me to task in a way nobody else can. Raising him has been the most rewarding journey of my life.

He's three. He's intoxicating and infuriating. He makes me want to sob and laugh. He both fills and breaks my heart. He confuses the hell out of me. He is enough. He's more than enough. He's all I want.

This morning at breakfast he said, "Mama, you luff me big much." 

He's totally right. Big much.
Happy Birthday to my sweet boy. Thank you, Toby, for everything.

To view his first year slideshow, click here
To view his second year slideshow, click here

Toby's Surprise Day

Every year, around Toby's birthday, Aaron and I like to take a day off and do something fun; just the three of us. Toby was born on a Wednesday so, we always do it the Wednesday before his birthday.

This year we went to Boston for the day. We're lucky that Boston is less than an hour away and we have so many options of fun things to choose from! We didn't plan Boston by accident, it was actually very strategic in that Boston is home to THE ONE AND ONLY CURIOUS GEORGE STORE!  If you know my kid you know how he feels about "Ah-Ah."

On Saturday May 16th, to kick off his birthday, we had a family party at our house. This year's theme was Curious George and it was ADORABLE. But, more on that later. We still have a few things up our sleeve for his actual birthday on Saturday May 23rd, but we had been planning this particular day for months.

As of Tuesday night, he had NO CLUE what was to come the next morning. He knew he had a special surprise but, other than that, he knew nothing. He woke up and said, "It's my surprise day!"

When Aaron asked him what he wanted for breakfast, he said "pupcakes" (pancakes)
so, he and Dada made them!

Then we packed a lunch and headed to the New England Aquarium. He was SO excited!

He loved the touch and feel tank except when the man scooped up a hermit crab. Toby immediately told him sternly, "Put him back. He goes in water! You'll hurt him!" (He has such a big heart!)

 After we spent the morning at the aquarium, we ventured out into the beautiful city of Boston for the second part of Toby's "surprise" day.

What would a trip to Boston be without a ride on the carousel?

 

And, in case you're wondering what I would look like if I was a three-year-old-boy,
see picture above.

After the carousel, Toby informed us that, despite a huge breakfast and non-stop snacking, he needed a pretzel. Today we met all of his demands. So, off to Fanuiel Hall/Quincy Market we went

That pretzel was yummy but, an ice cream would certainly hit the spot!

For the final surprise we headed to Harvard Square in Cambridge...

Yes, there is a store, devoted entirely to Curious George. It's the only one in the world, in fact.

It was basically Toby's Disneyland.

Unfortunately, the Curious George in the airplane wasn't for sale. I mean, not that I asked or insisted, or tried to grease their palm or anything. I'm just, you know, assuming that it's not for sale. They probably wouldn't even sell it for brand new crisp one hundred dollar bill if it was offered to them. Allegedly.

Toby didn't ask for anything in the store. We couldn't believe it! He was just so happy to be there. So, we took it upon ourselves to purchase a few little souvenirs for him. Nothing huge... just a couple of toothbrushes and a magnet.

On the way back the car Toby found a "castle" near Harvard (his future Alma Mata) and wanted to go knock on the door. 

He certainly felt like a king for the day. He fell asleep before we hit the highway to come back home. When we got back to town and we asked him what he wanted for dinner, he said "Pizza!"

Which he ate in his new big-boy chair.

It was a perfect day and I'm really loving the tradition of making a day of fun for him.

What I'm not liking is that my baby is THREE. Time goes too fast.