Last week, Ryan was away for four days, attending the wedding of a wonderful friend. Mama and the babes stayed home — and we had a great time. On top of regular chores, I made sure we had some special moments. Even if neither of the boys remember, I will. Our picnic dinners (consisting of totally-not-dinner food!), our walks and errands, our games of kickball, play-do outside, and lots of snuggles. I love those little boys! I won’t bore anyone with more details. But since this ends up being the most accurate record of my days as a young mom, I’m mentioning it here: we had so much fun together.
He talks more and more, and asks better and better questions. I adore his wide open eyes, taking in the world, processing, trying to understand. These days we’re taking great delight in the butterflies that visit our garden (“No touch wings, Mom. Butterflies die.“), in chasing birds and calling for them to come back (doesn’t that remind me of a certain brother of mine!), and in singing songs together. He loves to sing. Last night, we all laid down on Jameson’s bed and sang Amazing Grace together. His little voice, piping up, trying so hard to spit out the familiar syllables, was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.
He’s putting speech patterns together and, in typical toddler fashion, getting them a bit confused. For instance, to make the word “my” plural, he (logically enough), says, “my’s”. I guess it makes sense. If that apple is Mama’s, why would the other not be my’s?
Today at lunch (which was, as always, outside. Gotta love this sunshine!), I was singing a song from church. He started drumming on his knees, the right hand on every beat, the left emphasizing the 3rd. I couldn’t believe it. I realize that in a family blessed by a prodigy drummer, this is, you know, less than headline news. Still. It made me smile.
When he laughs, which he does easily, his eyes crinkle, like his daddy’s. A little toddler face, with crinkly eyes. So adorable.
And all the time, totally unprompted, he’ll sweetly say, “Thanks, Mom” — whether it be the dinner we’re eating, or the outing I took him on, or the ball game I just played.
He’s growing up. His growing independence — and dependability — absolutely amazes me, and I adore the little man he’s becoming. But there’s a continual catch in my heart these days. I see the sand slipping at lightening speed through my fingers. And I know there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Best to just enjoy the ride. Some days that’s easier to do than others. Some days, I wonder how tomorrow could possibly be better than today — today, with those two little hands that get into trouble and drive me to insanity, and just as quickly are wrapped around my neck, accompanied by, “I need you, Mama!”
Over the weekend, I noticed that William’s top front teeth are coming through, along with his eye teeth.
Suddenly, my new baby has a mouth full of teeth.
How does that happen?
He is the smooshiest, sweetest, most adorable baby ever — of that I’m convinced. I told Ryan, it’s almost hard to be sad about him growing, because the bigger he gets, the more fun he is to squeeze! So much chub!
He’s almost sitting alone these days. Almost. Almost meaning, he sits for a few minutes before falling and cracking his head because of course he misses the three pillows I set all around him. Poor kid. He’s graduated to the high chair, now, and loves sitting at the table while we eat, chewing on the table cloth or any other random kitchen object I can find for him. Because, of course, he’s much too mature for those dumb little baby toys I try to offer him. ;)
His smile is dimply and huge and makes me think of my brother Jamie’s baby pictures. I hope I always remember this smile. Combined with his incredibly loving eyes, it’s enough to make your heart burst.
This past week, he was 7 months old. I was going to try to take a picture, but the day was, well, one of those days. Days when I’m aware of how old the boys are getting, but life is too hairy to really notice are especially hard for me. (Am I melancholy, by any chance? Goodness!)
He wants his mama almost around the clock, almost without exception. I don’t mind. I gladly will put him in the Ergo, close to me, while playing piano at church. I know in another year, he’ll be playing with Jameson, thrilled to explore the rest of the world, no longer needing to see, smell, touch his mama all day long.
I knew it would go even faster this time around, and it has. I think of him as a three-month old baby, and am totally surprised when he gets all attitude on me because I took away the paper he was ingesting. I can totally appreciate why the last child of the family gets babied. Goodness, by the time you’re on to #5, it must take years to catch up with the speed at which they grow!
I get exhausted. No, make that I am exhausted. Perpetually. I feel clueless much of the time. I let frustration get the best of me, even when I shouldn’t. I sometimes just aim at surviving instead of really living. But the whole time, I can’t help but think, this is one of the best times of my life. I catch a moment of lull: both boys in the tub, laughing and splashing, big blue eyes fixed on me, their much-loved Mama, and I can’t help but think, This is awesome.
God’s got some good ideas. That I would get to be a mother is one of His best.