2 Year Old Zion

At 2 years old, Zion . . .

Loves to say please and thankyou.

Loves puzzles - especially our big zoo puzzle. When we arrive back home from an errand, the first thing he says when he sees our house is, "puzzle! puzzle!" Once in the door he heads straight back to work on his puzzle.

Loves to be chased.

Loves copying Elise.

Loves to drink from my water bottle.

Loves to hold my hand - especially when climbing stairs.

Loves fireworks.

Loves snuggling.

Loves washing his hands. Give him soap and a running faucet and he is a happy little guy.

Loves painting with water on our Aqua-Doodle mat. He tells us about all of the different animals that he is drawing.

Loves counting. Usually his counting is a random collection of numbers, in no particular order. But he can count 1 to 4 with some consistency.

Loves naming colors and letters, but these are most likely random colors or letters and not associated in any way with the correct color or letter. But he does know the letter "O" and several colors.

Love animals. His crib is a zoo of stuffed animals, with his blue teddy bear and his black teddy bear being the most loved of all. He also lines up his little plastic animals around the house. Sometimes he pretends to see and hear a lion or a bear in our living room too.


Zion . . .

Dislikes being stuck in his crib while Elise roams free in their room at night.

Dislikes the heat - he points at the sunshine and says, "hot!"

Dislikes unexpected attacks by the sprinklers at the spray ground.

Dislikes my big belly that disturbs his favorite snuggling spot. He has even resorted to standing on my lap with his head resting on my shoulder in an attempt to replicate "pre-belly" snuggles.

Zion Speaks

Zion has a very different communication style than Elise at the same age. She was startling us with flowery phases and poetry. Zion typically uses bursts of single words, grouped together to convey his message.

For example, the other day Elise locked me in the basement. Once I was freed from the basement and back with the kids, I gave Elise a good talking to about future consequences of fiddling with the lock. In the midst of this, Zion ran up to me and said, "Elise . . . . Lock-it . . . . Trouble!" Only three words, but he sure got the message =)

Another example:
This morning at the breakfast table, we were trying to explain to Elise the concept of a person being "tough". We threw out explanations like, "durable" and "when you get hurt but don't cry a lot". Zion again summed up the concept in just a few well chosen words: "Me boom. Me better."

Zion's 2nd Birthday

Zion turned two years old just two weeks after we moved to Indy. To celebrate, we invited over our dearest friends in all of Indiana. Two weeks prior they were only acquaintances, but their status took a giant leap when we, and our new best friends all left our homes to move in Indy for fellowships.

Elise has been planning Zion's "racecar" birthday for many, many months now. Now she has moved on to planning her "rainbow" birthday and Tatu's "shirt" birthday. According to Elise, to celebrate a "shirt" birthday, you have teddy bears wearing shirts that guests can write their name on, and balloons with pictures of shirts on them. I had no plans to have a "0-th" birthday party, but now we just might have cupcakes to celebrate his arrival.

Zion loved the car theme. He kept repeating, "me birthday, car, yeah".

Zion's Song

At dinner last night, I finished eating first. And so I serenaded my kids with a silly song about how I love Zion, Elise, and Tatu. When I was done, I turned to Elise and asked her if she had a song about how she loves Mommy and Daddy. Predictably she declined. Then I asked Zion if he had any songs.

He gave me a smile and said, "Mommy, Daddy, me, Elise . . . happy."

Now that is a song that needs no music.

Moving

I've been waiting to write a post about our upcoming move. I've been waiting until a strong wave a nostalgia hits and I can pour unto this screen a bit of what the last three years here in Nashville have meant to me.

But I'm really not feeling nostalgic. I'm not feeling all that sad either. A bandaid of denial is covering the loss and leaving me feeling a bit blank inside. Maybe I'm numb to this after already moving twice in the last four years due to Jeffrey's training. Maybe I've been preparing myself for this since I moved here.

I don't know. But I do know that I am welcoming any comfort and protection from the pain of moving - even if it is in the form of denial. I suppose this bandaid cure will have to come off eventually, but I hope I can keep it on until I'm a little less raw underneath.

And then I'll start preparing myself for the next move. In one year. This sure is a crazy life we lead.

Journal - Not Our Turn

I just posted a blog voicing my puzzlement at why I am so blessed with healthy babies, and why so many of my friends are not. I wonder what those friends will think when they read it. Will they agree with me and wonder why they suffer and not me. Will they wish we could trade places? When Carrie, the mother of two babies with heart defects reads it, will she ache as she relives her first telltale ultrasound? What will win out in the battle of her heart – joy that we escape her sorrow, or resentment that she did not have a expert opinion to wipe away her worries?

Not Our Turn

Yesterday we had a scary ultrasound. Tatu's heartbeat sang along at 120, then dipped down to 70. Up and down. Up and down. He barely moved during the entire ultrasound. The tech couldn't get a very good look at his heart. And so the OB summed it up as "not textbook perfect".

He looked so perfect to me. His nose, his mouth, his little feet. Perfect.

But we were referred to a Pediatric Cardiologist for a complete scan. Words of comfort were offered - this might be just odd behavior of a healthy heart, he might just not be moving because he's asleep.

Or it might be our turn. Our turn for bad news. Our turn feel emptiness and pain instead of relief.

We've been there before. Back when Jeffrey's sore eye wasn't a minor nothing, but a life changing something.

Around me are friends who are struggling to get pregnant or loosing babies before they are born. Friends who've watched their newborns struggle through surgeries. And I've often puzzled at the ease with which my precious children were conceived and born. And I've wondered when it will be my turn for loss and empty arms. When will it be my turn for my perfect child to have a painfully imperfect little body.

And so I headed into the cardiac ultrasound wondering if it was my turn.

But it wasn't this time. At least not yet. It turns out that his heart is completely normal. And he really was just asleep during his ultrasound yesterday.

After our trip to the ER last month and our scare yesterday, I'm not taking this baby for granted. I'm smiling at each kick that lets me know he is safe, growing inside of me. And I'm not letting this chance to love him pass me by.

Because there is no good reason why someday it won't be our turn.