I planned on writing a blog today with solely Beckham in mind.
Had already wrote it in my head, and just needed to sit here to pound it out on this keyboard.
Then today in our Bible study, we read the story of Isaac and Rebekah and how her favoritism towards one son corrupted her marriage.
We talked about how mostly all of us have experienced favoritism towards a sibling in some way or another and although it is most likely unintentional and unnoticed...
the effects are still permanent and building blocks to who we are today. (often both for the good and bad)
It is hard.
Sometimes I realize that I have posted more pictures on IG of Beckham... or said more positive things here in the blog about Maddox.
It is a constant balancing act-- trying to make sure I evenly praise, and snuggle evenly and acknowledge this one first this time-- and the other the next.
But as hard as I try, sometimes it is just not even.
With that it mind, I probably should not start this by saying that Beckham is hard.
Although he is.
And I shouldn't admit that I sometimes I am grateful that he wasn't my first, or I would have probably thrown in the towel by now-- because that sounds like I am showing favoritism to Maddox.
But while pondering if I should even write this blog, I thought...
And I realized...
That I equally disliked this age with Maddox!
I do enjoy 4 much more than I enjoy 21 months...
But if we take a stroll through memory lane in this here blog, we would see that I was equally whipped and beaten down when Maddox was almost 2.
I worried myself sick, if you remember...
I stressed and was embarrassed and felt inadequate.
I left many stores due to fits and worried that I was doing everything wrong.
Most of our friends were little girls, so I felt like I was wrangling a circus bear as their girls would sit and eat so delicately.
I was weary.
But God does this funny thing...
like childbirth, one day is over.
And in hindsight, it is a tiny part of their life that has many more good memories than bad attached to it.
Not only do I see this with myself,
but I walked hand in hand with many friends who have claimed defeat in parenting--
and now retell the stories as if they were tiny bits of time--
far less severe than the days in which they actually walked them.
For that reason, however, I hate that I let this paralyze me.
There are days that I feel growth-- as I walk with my head high, completely able to tune out the fit that is Beckham. I ignore the stares and don't take his shrill bursts of anger personally.
(which I was 100% unable to do when Maddox was this age)
And other days, (like the last 2) where I call it a loss, toss my buggy to the side and make my way to my car.
But so was Maddox.
And in a year from now, that stubborn strong willed little body who could disassemble a bomb-- or maybe build one... will be told in cute stories and our days of laughter will certainly out-weigh our bad.
So here are a few Beckham'isms.
He learned to say no this week.
It usually sounds more like "doe".
He also learned to say "more".
I was drinking a Pepsi and he was grunting, pointing, and opening/ closing his hand and then pointing to his mouth.
I said, "Say more. If you can say more, I'll give you this can."
He pursed his lips, as if to make an M sound and then grinned.
I said, "you can do it. Say more."
And as plain as if he has been speaking his whole life, said, "more."
Now he says, momma, dadda, bubba, dipe-dipe, uh-oh, night-night, no, more, uh-uh (as in 'no' but without manners) and whoa.
We are moving forward.
Though he still says very little, he can seek and find with Richard Scarry like nobody's business!
Yesterday, we met Candace and Audry for lunch at Chickfila. As I was unpacking nuggets and placing our mats on the table, Candace said, "what in the world! He just unwrapped that straw and put it in his juice box."
I didn't even realize it, but his fine motor skills are incredible.
We joke that he is going to be our little engineer.
He has learned to crawl out of his crib, which means naps are exhausting and bed time is overwhelming.
After 4 nights of 4 people in our bed, we devised a new plan.
Both cried, but stayed there until 8:00 this morning.
We may be on to something?!
And full size bed shopping and new room decor might be in our near future!
He has the true Eyster gene...
He is a worker bee.
(with a short temper)
He is constantly "fixing" everything, with any tool he can find.
Sometimes that tool, however, happens to be a permanent marker (yes, again)... a grill lighter (thank God he wasn't able to make work), and chalk. All over my wall.
He loves screws and anything that he can take apart.
And he loves to demolish things...
just like his Uncle Weeder did.
Lance and I were at dinner the other night and I said, "do you think he will always be the one giving us a run for our money... trying to sneak out the window at night..." and at the same time, Lance and I both said, "or smoking cigarettes behind the house?!"
We died laughing that we had the same thought!
But he will be alright.
We will be alright.
I will be alright.
This too shall pass--
and soon enough, I will be sad that it did.