I guess I want to hold on to that little, dependent baby. Most of the time...
There are times when he is absolutely, physically incapable of pulling up his underwear or he absolutely cannot reach his cup that is sitting 3 inches away from his hand and it is these moments when I am ready for him to forget that I am "The Mommy" and fend for himself. BUT, the thought leaves my mind. Eventually. After he has picked himself off of the floor 20 minutes later and wiped his snotty mess on my pant leg...
He understands jokes and pretends to be different characters and laughs at himself for calling me Yiayia instead of Mommy or when he makes a mistake and catches himself.
He is so truly in love with me. And the feeling is deeply mutual. He can stop the world from spinning by just smiling or giving me a big squeeze. The world is such a better place with this little booger in it!
I try and not think of the day when he will not need me to care for him daily or when he first does something on purpose that is hurtful or disappointing. When I am no longer "Mommy." I mean, I know I will always be his Mommy but I have to face that he is growing up.
Snuggling with him at night is like being in another world- free from worry and no thoughts of the day dare enter into my mind. I am totally consumed by the moment. Just me and my boy. What a blessed time. Our time.
I hesitate to even share our "nest" moments: We lay there and he asks me to tell him what he has named "Tree Stories"- bed time stories that started with him climbing a giant tree and on each branch he would meet a new character. The stories change each night and usually involve food or pirates or Woody and Buzz. Anything that my newly, awakened imagination can drum up.
He laughs and we giggle and I unknowingly fall into his world- giggling and becoming completely swallowed by the moment. I Love this kid. Love him.
Now, I won't lie and say that that happens every night. There are nights when I am tired and selfish and just want him to let me tuck him in and kiss him and say good night and him tell me to not let the door hit me on the way out....BUT, I am only human, not June Cleaver.
And Imagination. Wow. Welcome back! Where has mine been all of these years?
I think as we get older and our lives become complicated and messy, our mind has to make room for coping skills and other junk and the first thing to get the boot is The Imagination. Then we have kids and our memory struggles to keep it's place so who can even begin to think about The Imagination?
But luckily, my imagination was only asleep. Kids are large mocha, latte fraps (you can tell I don't drink coffee, etc.) that kick start the imagination. A little CPR for the comatose "thing" that used to be every child's defining characteristic. Again, thanks Bryce for bringing mine back to life.
This week I've been in a rock band, a pirate, Buzz Lightyear, a dancer, I've colored many "pretty pictures", a doctor and a patient, a baby, and have eaten "bath-tub soup" numerous times. Always yummy. He's a good cook.
It's fun to let loose and not be completely embarrased by wearing underwear on your head and a towel for a cape and running around screaming and dancing. Good times. Unfortunately for you, the camera battery just happenned to die when all of this pretending was going on...
I have read so many blogs about Mums and Dads and their babies and families and how their lives unfold and the ups and downs. I think change and love are recurring themes. Change can be good. And love can't be a bad thing. Especially when it's shared with a 2.5 year old boy who likes to pee on the plants in the front yard. In broad daylight. And then laughs.
So I've rambled long enough and now will give you's what your here for....pictures of the kid:
