Untangling Knotts

Late last summer, Ellie climbed out of her crib. She actually fell quite hard, but in typical Ellie behavior brushed it right off and didn’t attempt climbing out for a while. However, Zak and I rushed out to IKEA and bought a cute toddler bed to have on hand when the time came that she really needed it.

Fast forward to about two months ago. Ellie perfected falling out of her crib AND climbing back in. We talked about switching her over, but the holidays were keeping us busy and then Zak and I went out of town and by that point she climbed in and out with such ease we didn’t see the rush. After all, the idea of being able to cage her at times was quite appealing.

Fast forward to two nights ago. She threw a nice, loud tantrum at bedtime and REFUSED to stay in her crib. Zak asked her if she would rather sleep on the floor and she cheerfully said, “Yep!” She immediately put her head on her pillow as we covered her with her purple quilt. We shut her door and didn’t hear another peep. She was asleep in moments.

She made it clear she was DONE with her crib. Yesterday, I teared up as I kissed her sweet dreams in the crib for the last time. My baby isn’t a baby anymore.

During nap, I assembled the new bed through step five of fourteen and then realized we hadn’t purchased one of the components from IKEA. Score! Meatballs from IKEA for dinner!

After the meatballs and the purchase we made our way back home. Zak finished the assembly and we kissed our Ellie sweet dreams in her big girl bed for the first time. She closed her eyes and slept soundly.

My Grandpa Owen died last Thursday, February 18th at the age of 80 and after 56 years of marriage. He was a fighter that worked his way through more medical obstacles than imaginable. And always without a complaint. He was mentally prepared to pass away and I sincerely believe he was 100% ready. Nonetheless, it hurts. My heart hurts. For Grandma. For my dad. And mom. My aunts. Uncles. Michael. My cousins. And my kiddos. We will all miss him.

I have countless memories from childhood with him. All good and happy and joyful. The walks to Dairy Queen for dilly bars. Playing in the backyard. Listening to the local police radio in the back room. Watching him carefully make t-shirts in the basement. His glasses case in his front pocket of his polo shirts. The holidays with all us little cousins running around. His amazing smile in every photo ever taken of him. All warm memories.

What I will miss the most is his relationship with my Zoe and Ellie. He loved them so very much and I believe he hung on for a few extra years for them and his other three beautiful great grandkids. My kids will never sit on his lap again. His prostatic legs with never be a fun game of confusion and giggles. He won’t sneak bites of Chex Mix to them on our next visit. They won’t beep the horn on his scooter again. He won’t encourage them to eat a second cookie at lunch so he can have the other half. They will not see his smiles of approval when they do something slightly inappropriate at the dinner table during holidays. He won’t be able to teach them new skills as he taught Zoe how to wink and Ellie how to kick a ball.

We won’t have new moments with Grandpa Owen.

Grandpa was a good man and all who knew him know of his gentleness and kindness. He made such an impact on our lives and we will carry his spirit always.

Dear Ellie,
You are two! It’s funny, because for months we’ve been saying “She sure acts like a 2 year old. I can’t believe she’s only one still.” I guess your age has caught up with you now. They say that a baby changes more in their first year of life than any other. I disagree. “They” haven’t met you. Your second year rocked. You went from a baby to a crazy, wild, loving, funny, crazy toddler. (Yes, the two crazies were intentional.) You learned to talk, to run, to play, sing, dance, jump, tumble, use a big girl cup, test your limits, do puzzles, make friends, and say “I want more Curious George, Mommy. Please?” You have found your place in our family, a place no one occupied before, and a place that truly completes us as ‘The Knott Family’.
We often put so much focus on your endless energy and outrageous gymnastic moves, but you love so strongly and so intensely. Hands down, you are the best cuddler I have ever had the opportunity to cuddle. You showed us for a good 4 months straight that at 3:00 in the morning there is nothing you’d rather do than cuddle in bed between mom and dad. Just for fun. For cuddles. For memories. And each night I’d remember that these days don’t last forever and if your kiddo just wants a cuddle how do you say no? All I can say about that is we all get a good night sleep now. And we have the memories. (With the exception of Monday night, you screaming “Mommy! Cuddle! Now!!!” worked. But tonight…you’re sleeping all the way through.)
You also love so strongly. Zoe is your best friend and throughout the last year she cracked open your imagination and now you are right with her through games of school, mommy, doctor, airplane, etc. You fill those roles so easily and the two of you fill hours. You also teach her a ton. You’ve taught her that mom and dad weren’t really serious when we said you guys could break your head open if you jump off the couch, or the bed, or the table, or down the flight of stairs. Thanks for that one kiddo. Also, your love for daddy and me is unbelievable. You run and jump into daddy’s arms when he walks in the door after work. And the two of us have “I love you this much!!!” contests that go on and on until our arms can’t stretch any more.
We think you’re smart. I know all parents think their kids are smart and we’re no different. You get things, you have learned to manipulate (in a positive and sometimes not so positive way…it’ll get you far in life, no worries!), you negotiate. It’s hard to explain and sounds kind of like bragging, but if you ever look at this in the future, I want you to know that I know you have it and get it. You are a smart cookie. The kind of smart that will bring you onto great things.
I know I’ve mentioned it throughout this letter, but I really need to tell you how crazy you are. There is NOTHING you won’t try. And if you like it, you’ll do it again and again and again. I can no longer count the number of times you’ve fallen down the full flight of stairs, sat up, and said “Whee!!” Or the number of walls you’ve run into because the dizziness sensation is your favorite rush. We’ve been to the ER this year with a cracked bloody head of yours, and it didn’t faze you. You are happiest moving. Preferably, quickly. And in danger’s way. You have a leash. I used to judge parents that needed a leash for their toddler. No longer. I am the one being judged. But you are safe, so I don’t care. (Here’s a good story that we’ll be telling at graduations and such: A few weeks ago you were having a horrible, terrible, tear-inducing (both you and me) temper tantrum at bed time. After a long evening, you finally fell asleep on your bedroom floor, because you easily flipped out of your crib countless times. Daddy was so worried you’d wake up in the middle of the night as angry with us as when you finally closed your eyes. We actually wedged a chair into the front door so you couldn’t wake up, go down the stairs, unlock the deadbolt (a skill you’ve mastered), and walk down the block for a beer at Brixie’s. See we go to extreme measures to keep you safe.)
And in spite of all the fun you’ve provided for us, you certainly have had your share of medical issues: two ER trips this year, ear tubes, overcoming a long 9 month battle with anemia, eye concerns, and the typical kid colds. All this has never halted your happiness or joy. You just go with the flow and don’t get worked up over the little things…like ear surgery.
Oh, Ellie. You are truly a light. You have given me such a beautiful gift. You’ve shown me this parenting thing is COMPLETELY different than I ever could have imagined. You are nothing short of the most amazing joy. And you make me laugh. What a star you are, Miss Ellie. I love you.

Love,
Mommy

Zoe received $31 for her birthday from her great-grandparents. She opened a card to find a crisp $10 bill inside and lit up from the inside. Then she opened another card and found 20 one dollar bills, I know because she has counted them over and over and over. We placed them in a safe spot and reminded her several times since her November birthday to be thinking of something she might want to buy.

She finally decided a couple of days ago. She wanted real baby clothes for her baby doll, Marco.

(A bit about Marco. Zoe got a lovely baby for her 2nd birthday and soon fell in love with it. She named it Emma and took great care of Emma. About a year ago, Zoe suddenly changed the doll’s name to Marco. And she became a he. Over the past year Marco and Zoe have developed a special relationship and Marco is much more of an imaginary friend than a physical doll. Zoe is CONSTANTLY telling us all about the crazy, wild, or totally normal, run-of-the-mill adventures the two of them go on.)

Anyway, Zoe decided she wants to go to Target and purchase a few items for Marco. She creates a list in Zak’s phone consisting of: onsies, burp clothes, pajamas, and shoes.

She carefully put her money in her new Hello Kitty wallet inside of her new Hello Kitty purse, grabbed Marco and headed to Target with us. She strapped Marco in the baby seat of the cart and proudly pushed him throughout the store. (Marco actually looks pretty lifelike and we got several looks from folks who must have thought he was real.)

Zoe carefully picked out a darling pair of newborn boy pajamas, a pack of 5 girl onsies, 3 burp clothes, and a cute pair of white slippers.

We made our way to the check out and Zoe carefully and accurately counted each bill and handed them over to the patient cashier.

It was a great experience for her and such a grown-up thing for my little girl to do.