Being Gregory’s mother means knowing that when he HEARS that garbage truck behind the backyard fence, he will strain every muscle in his body to try and see it from his high chair. Best save the chiropractor for a later date and lift him up high to see it.
Being Gregory’s mother means knowing that if you put on some music, preferably the Downton Abbey soundtrack, he will start dancing. She doesn’t know where he got most of his “moves”, like the one where he’s “sprinkling seeds”, and especially the river dancing, but Gregory’s mother doesn’t ask rude questions like that. She does suspect that Gregory’s father has something to do with it all…
Being Gregory’s mother means knowing that although he seems to like torturing “Ra-relle”, that dog is still his best friend. Gregory’s mother can rest assured, knowing that they have an odd symbiotic relationship wherein he occasionally acts as the benevolent dropper of snacks, and she occasionally acts as a punching bag for all manner of shovels, brooms and toy cars.
Being Gregory’s mother means knowing that he WILL remember whatever word you say and repeat it. Watch out, world. He points to his Mamma’s cup and says, “Beer!”. He yells “WHY!!!”, not because he’s asking, but because it’s what Mamma uses instead of a 4 letter word. When he says he wants “vaggies” for dinner, Gregory’s mother doesn’t get embarrassed– she knows he meant those little carrots and corn kernels, not….anything else.
Being Gregory’s mother means finally getting kisses “with lips” instead of with a head butt. A definite improvement, except for when he gets too enthusiastic…
Being Gregory’s mother means knowing that he has some anatomical trouble when it comes time to find his “bel-bow”, but he is a pro at naming his hair, ears, eyes, pointer finger, chin, tongue, teeth, you name it!
Being Gregory’s mother means being continually surprised by just how smart he is. Gregory’s mother used to have to prompt him with letters, asking, “What’s this one? What does it say?”, but she was shocked to find that he now loves to run up to license plates and read off the letters and numbers. Gregory’s mother knows that Gregory especially likes having a “B” on his shirt, especially when it’s accompanied by a matching “baseball”. One can never get bored when they have easy entertainment sitting right there for the saying.
Being Gregory’s mother means getting to take advantage of his new-found attention to detail. Gregory’s mother gets spit up on quite often by Gregory’s little brother, but the icky stuff doesn’t phase Gregory– he follows directions and goes to get Mommy a washcloth.
Being Gregory’s mother means getting to watch him sit for nearly ten minutes while concentrating and trying to figure something out.
Being Gregory’s mother means knowing that one SURE way to make him giggle is to say, “MAH-rrrrio!”. Gregory’s mother also knows that the best silly things don’t make sense.
Being Gregory’s mother means knowing that his favorite book is “Jamberry“, and that it can be read a variety of ways to his liking. Sometimes, an English accent is okay with him– it does rhyme, after all. And sometimes, it should be half-way sung. And sometimes, it should be done with tickles, all at the right spots. Gregory’s mother also knows that Gregory likes games, especially when they involve food, and that the only REAL way to read Jamberry is with a plate full of fresh berries, ready to snack on during each page.
Being Gregory’s mother means knowing that, when pointing out objects, he doesn’t like to just stop with one “tree!”, but wants to find, “anUH tree!” or “two tree!”. This also applies to “lams” (lamps), “doe-s” (doors), and “haws” (hats, of which there are a LOT in Jamberry).
Being Gregory’s mother means getting to wake up to the most sweet and cheerful voice saying, “Hi! Mamma, Dadda, maw-ning! Hi!” Gregory’s mother also gets to cuddle with him every morning as he drinks his milk, knowing that he will stop in between gulps to say, ever so tenderly, “mmm, Mama…mmmm, Dadda….mmm, Wee….”
Being Gregory’s mother means getting to hear his sweet, “Nigh-nigh, lub-loo” (“love you”) every night as he’s on his way to bed with Dadda.
Being Gregory’s mother means getting to stand peacefully in church with the most well-behaved child she’s ever seen. Gregory’s mother also gets to respond to at least 2 people, every week, who say, “Wow! How did you train him to be so GOOD during church?” And the only answer Gregory’s mother can ever give is, “We didn’t do anything! He just loves church!” Because, how else do you explain how a toddler is able to quietly sit for 2+ hours???
Being Gregory’s mother means knowing that the only way he comes back inside from playing is by kicking and screaming. Gregory’s mother knows that he loves the outdoors so much, and this is just the price one has to make in order to be a civilized human being.
Being Gregory’s mother means knowing that he loves sports of all kinds. She knows that all it takes is someone to demonstrate, whether it be an NBA player on TV or Dadda. Gregory’s mother doesn’t have to be afraid when he’s in the backyard all by himself for nearly an hour– he’s just hitting the ball off the tee, over and over again.
Being Gregory’s mother means relinquishing a certain amount of control when it comes to her plants. Gregory frequently “waters” these plants by stabbing the dirt around them with the watering can’s spout.
Being Gregory’s mother, ultimately, means getting to feel ever so blessed, every single day, for such a sweet, loving, smart and hilarious kid. It means getting the joy of hearing him say things, like, “Dadda HOME!” It means getting to spend every day with someone who she not only loves, but someone she loves being around, “tinky” diapers and all 🙂