Tag Archives: Little Ring

TWO infinity and beyond!

(This post is a couple days late…)

From this:

Just a few weeks old; but a feather in my arms.

Just a few weeks old; but a feather in my arms.

To this:

12 months: cherishing the moments.

12 months: cherishing the moments.

To this:

24 months: No time for mama's arms, too busy playing in the sand and riding your beloved bike.

24 months: No time for mama’s arms, too busy playing in the sand and riding your beloved bike.

I don’t know how it is possible you are already two; I clearly remember just yesterday being the day you were born.

So many changes the last year, heck, the last three months. Your undying love for your bike; your game of playing helmet with papsy’s helmet; your own give-mama-a-heart-attack version of Road Bike Party; your insistence on dressing up in mama’s sweaty running gear the moment she walks through the door; the new sentences exiting your mouth every day; your off-key, super loud singing (makes mama proud!); your desire to help that more often than not turns into more work for us; your recital of Don’t Let The Pigeon Stay Up Late, usually done while making a “big piece” on the potty; your go-go-goness from the moment you wake up to the moment your head hits the crib at night – all fill my heart with giddy wings of butterfly happiness.


Singing Happy Birthday with added lyrics about cake… you like cake… a lot!

Every day is better than the last because of you ❤

“For dinner on my birthday, shall I tell you what I chose? Hot noodles made from poodles on a slice of garden hose. And a rather smelly jelly made from armadillo’s toes. The jelly is delicious, but you have to hold your nose!”
~ James and the Giant Peach

21 months: I. Love. You.

Dear Female Cyclists: On behalf of the Princess/Rings family, I sincerely apologize if you were offended when my dear boy, pointed to the both of you, one after the other, excitedly waving his arm in the air as he exclaimed “Dike! Dike!” just as you were passing. He in no way was referring to what your sexual preferences may or may not be. It’s just that, well, he loves everything bike (seriously, he’s crazy obsessed!) but has yet to master the necessary ‘b’ sounds. But hey, better than calling trucks “%$&#” don’t you think!

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Racing for ice cream, and already letting the girls win!

Dear Ladders, Chairs, Tables, Pretty Much Anything My Child Climbs: Please keep my boy safe, please don’t let him fall through your cracks, or off your platforms. It’s bad enough the kid wants to climb to the moon at 21 months old and give his mama heart palpitations at 35, I do NOT need full on attacks.

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“Did it!”

Dear Little Knees: I understand you might be a wee bit scared of the boy you’re attached to. May I please refer you to the timeless tale of how little boys are made of snips and snails and puppy dog tails, a poem that I could surely add a stanza or two to, something along the lines of “scrapes and scratches and bloody Bandaid patches!” You’ll be happy to know, I have informed the boy that his feet go in front of one another and are not meant to be tripped over, and that his knees are probably not made for grinding into rock piles or down cement stairs. But, dear knees, I now have a favour to ask of you. Please toughen up! Seriously, that one owie of yours, the one that went right down to the whites of the bone, and was pussy all over, nearly had me hurling!

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The ongoing owie.

Dear Professional Soccer Players and NHL Goalies: If you thought your diving and acting wounded skills were Oscar worthy, you haven’t seen the instant replays of Little Ring’s falls. He could show you a thing or two that would surely have the refs calling penalties on your behalf. We’re taking clients; email for pricing.

Dear Vocabulary Gods: I. Love. You. Two weeks ago, after months of hearing the boy spout everyone else’s name including a friend he had only just met minutes prior (and “Da” and “Dysha” (both Big Ring names) for over a year) you finally blessed me with the one name I have so longed for: “Mama!” And not just once, nope, mama is on repeat all day and all night. He says mama when he wakes up, he says mama when he wants me to read a story, mama when he wants to show me his bike stunts, mama, mama, mama when he can’t see me, mama when he leans in for a “tiss,” mAmmmmmmA when he doesn’t care to sleep. I love every single one of them. Now, if only we could master “I. Love. You” my heart would forever be in cloud 9.

Dear Little Ring: How on earth did you become so charming? so much a people person? an animal person? so incredibly theatrical? so obsessive?  (see dike above) so totally a flirt? so caring, loving, knowing? How on earth are you already 21 months old?

No longer a baby, not yet a big boy, just my love.

Forever my love.

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“If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.”
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

18 months: too fast

(I’m a few days late with this post.)

Dear Little Ring,

18 months, how has that happened. I swear, it’s as though I blinked and you went from a crying, sleeping, pooping lump, to this super chatty, super curious, super adventurous, walking, running, climbing, and trying to cycle little boy. And your knowledge, my goodness, is incredible. This year and a half, I have learned so much from you. Every day I learn from you.

I’ve learned that we don’t need to know all the words in the world, we don’t even need to know how to read in order to find love and laughter in the world of books. That day YOU read the Gitchy Gitchy Goo book at the edge of your room, no idea that I was watching from afar, tickling yourself at all the right pages, and getting super excited with giggles at all the right moments, that, my boy, is hands down my most favourite experience with books – ever!

Being a lover of words, I’ve always enjoyed speaking, but until you, I don’t think I properly knew the true joy of words – real or not. When you tell me to “Sit! Sit! Sit!” with a big smile on your face as I approach with your beloved “Goo!” (see below); or when you grab your “Doo!” and run to the “Doo!” and say “Out! Out! Out!”; or when you wrap your arms tight around my neck, bang your head onto my shoulder or into my chest and drawl out an “Aww!” – LOVE!

And kid, you’ve awakened me to the inefficiencies of our language too with your brilliant one word for a multitude of meanings speaking strategy:

  • “Doo!” = Spoon. Door. Shoes. Bib. Book.
  • “Goo!” = Yogurt. Coat.
  • “Gawr!” = Scarf. Lion’s roar.
  • “Yaya!” = Blanket. Daycare lady.
  • “Zzzth!” = Biscuit. Cracker. Pretty much anything in the pantry.

I’ve learned that I don’t need to be a champion cook, heck, I don’t really even need to be a good one to make your belly happy. I don’t need cookbooks, I don’t need structured recipes, I don’t need fancy ingredients – just a mixture of your favourites, no matter how odd it may seem to mix some of them together, and you’ll hoover it up as though it were Gordon Ramsey with the apron on.

I’ve learned on the road from you too, seeing the thrills on your face and in your feet, literally bouncing with excitement the moment you’re set free. You run with your eyes wide and your smile glued. You run with your arms waving and your feet motoring. You run with purpose. You run with meaning. You run until you can’t run anymore. All the while laughing, giggling, shrieking with glee.

Every day my heart grows with yours. Every. Day.

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“If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, 
I won’t grow up, never grow up, never grow up, not me. ”
~ Peter Pan

Strength training, toddler style

Dear Little Ring,

Remember those days when you were just a lump? The days when you’d lie there keeping mama company for her strength training? The days when all you could do was lift up and try to grab my necklace as I struggled through pushups or planked for a minute over top of you? The days when you’d roll from side to side, lift your arms, lift your legs, but essentially still just a little lump? Remember those?

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Oh how long ago those days were…

Dear Little Ring,

While I do so very, very, very much LOVE our daily snuggles, during strength training? Really? During pushups with your much larger lump directly under me? Really? During planks, clam shells, squats and lunges – Really???

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Yes mama, really! (Note: He was totally lifting his legs just like I was AND reading his book – little show off! 😉 )

12 months: Moments…

Shhh…

As I sit here in the rocking chair with you sleeping in my arms, my heart is near bursting. (Note: the heart bursting thing, it’s a daily occurrence when it comes to you) You’ve been sleeping for awhile now; I just can’t bring myself to lay you in your crib for the night. Good thing. Moments ago, your eyes popped open and you gave your mama the sweetest smile and the most heart-melting giggle. Then, you promptly fell back asleep.

Dear boy, I love these moments!

Dear boy, I love you!

You, who by the way, after months and months (seriously, months!) of teasing us with a Jack-in-the-Gums style tooth finally cracked a proper tooth just last week. Gone is my toothless wonder!

You, who by the way, loves to live on the edge, giving your mama heart palpitations every step of the way, whether it be mastering the art of solo standing in the most dangerous locales, the bath, the stairs, mamsy and papsy’s bed, or riding the swings like a roller coaster with your arms all up in the air, head and torso joyously swinging backwards!

You, who by the way, loves accolades and praise, and who is not shy of giving it to yourself, clapping with great gusto every time you feel it warranted: standing solo; spoon feeding yourself; pulling all your clothes out of the drawer; flinging clean – and usually freshly folded –laundry all over the floor; destroying a tower of Italian wooden blocks…

Clap. Clap. Clap.

You, who by the way, blows your mama’s mind with the expansiveness of your intelligence. Your love of the ‘H’ words: Hi. Hey. Hat. Head. Your remarkable talent for mimicry, whether it be the satisfying breath you take after a swig of water, or the AAAAAAAA sounds you make after your mama and papsy sneeze, or the woof, woof, woof you vocalize in the presence of dogs.

You, who by the way, are maddeningly stubborn (must have got that from your Papsy ;)) and want nothing but freedom and independence with such tasks as feeding yourself, stacking your blocks, opening the lid to the trunk of your car, which never stays open.

You, who by the way, are growing up way too fast.

Tonight you are 0. Tomorrow you are 1.

How did that happen?

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“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.” ~ Robert Munsch

9 months: ‘Happiness is a warm puppy’

Dear Little Ring,

Over the last 9 months, we have called you Silly Goose, Gooey Duck, Magoo, Bug-a-Bug, and other loving terms of endearment, but these days, my darling boy, I’m thinking the best nickname for you is Rover. As in, my little pup.

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Early on I spotted puppy like characteristics in you. Your snoring, snorting and tooting was so akin to a pug it made me giggle every time you did it. I thought those characteristics would subside, or at the very least be kept at bay. But now, my goodness child, people are going to start wondering if we’ve got canine in the family line! Every day, it seems, we are faced with a new doggy like characteristic in you 😉

As soon as you mastered your green army man crawl, it was as though you were the metal and the toilet bowl the magnet. I swear if you could get yourself up, your tongue would be lapping that water like you’d just run a marathon!

And forget teething rings and toys – our socks and shoes are your favoured chew toys.

And the wind, oh what a magical thing it is for you. Walking head on into a breeze, or even just when your mama’s blowing in your face, you get the biggest smile, and with your blissed-out eyes squinting upwards, your tongue lolls out in sheer ecstasy.

And your wide-mouthed kisses, one of your most special gifts, wouldn’t be complete without that final, loving component of a wet, sloppy lick.

And the moment your eyes catch that of a dog, a small dog, medium-sized dog, huge dog, it’s as though humans are nothing. Your eyes sparkle and your voice box goes into overdrive babbling, and shrieking with glee.

But the kicker, oh this is a good one, is the day you started barking. Seriously, you bark. You bark when you’re happy, you bark when you’re excited, you bark when you’re frustrated, and full-on growl when you’re mad.

And we don’t even have a dog!

But your giggles, my dear boy, even the ones when you’re sleeping, oh my goodness, no pooch could ever compare. They are the sweetest, most beautiful, infectious sounds to ever grace my ears.

“And Peter laughed, and when he did, all the devils grinned, because Peter’s laugh was a most contagious thing.” ~ JM Barrie, Peter Pan

The greatest accomplishment of all

I’ve climbed mountains, run marathons, traveled through various parts of the world, won writing awards, achieved As in chemistry, managed my disease to near perfection; all pretty awesome achievements.

But none of those accomplishments, not one, stand a chance next to the greatest accomplishment of my life.

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Little Ring is hands down the greatest, most impressive thing I have ever done – EVER! – with and without diabetes 😀

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* This is my fourth installment of Diabetes Blog Week with today’s topic being Accomplishments, big or small*