We had another good day today, despite the fact that it ended in tears from Joshua because of his 18 month shots. We rested and ate and danced and sang and cuddled and played and had a really good day. Nothing else got done around here, despite how much other stuff around here needs doing, because Joshua and I were together.
Because I’m in love with my new phone in a way that might border on unhealthy, I, of course, took pictures of our visit to the doctor’s office. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t?
Pretty much, he’s huge. But that’s okay by me. Because he’s completely healthy.
We discussed language and what words he can say and how he communicates. She’s happy that he knows a few signs and she’s pleased with his progress in general.
Then, we had to wait for his shots. He managed to entertain himself with a sticker and a stethoscope.
|Is this thing on right?|
|What about this one? Is this on right?|
Then the evil nurse lady came and gave him his shots and he cried. And cried. And cried. And screamed. Until we walked out of the office. And then he was fine. Until I put him in the carseat.
It breaks my heart that he has to know any pain at all. I wish I could take the pain for him.
He got to have a popsicle tonight and that made everything all better. Until the popsicle was gone. And then he was a bit perturbed with me for letting the popsicle run out. Apparently, they should be never ending.
|Oh, hi Mom. This popsicle is lalicious.|
I really, really love my son, y’all.
And the muchness of my love for him makes me scared to have another for fear that there will not be enough love to go around.
It just doesn’t seem real.
It doesn’t seem like a year ago this time I was only two months in to being back at work, and you were being rocked all day by Miss Nancy. It doesn’t seem like it’s possible that a year ago you weren’t even crawling yet. You were just learning to sit up on your own. You were just figuring out how to sleep for longer stretches at night.
But, sweet boy, we’ve survived a year and a half together.
We’re still surviving. Learning from each other every day.
You are teaching me so many things, like how to control my temper and the loudness of my voice when I’m frustrated.
You are teaching me patience.
You are teaching me the size of my heart.
And you? You are thriving. You are happy and smart and healthy and perfect. You are soaking up everything, trying your best to say what we say.
I love those stolen moments we have when you are drifting into sleep and you grab my mama hand with your toddler hand and you pull my hand to your heart as if to say “See, Mama. I love you, too.”
I love the moments we’ve had lately where you come up to me in the living room and you reach up for me to lift you onto my lap, despite the fact that you are capable of climbing up there yourself. I love that you want to sit with me and snuggle for just a split second. I love that you come to me to center yourself, and once you’ve found your center, you’re content to get down and play again.
I love that sometimes, even though I know you aren’t tired, you’ll lay your head down on my shoulder and breathe your baby breaths.
In that moment, you are happy.
In that moment, we are whole.
Mama loves you, sweet baby boy. Now and always, from the bottom of my heart.