AND I FREAKING ROCKED IT.
WOOT.
Okay, so yesterday? Yesterday I was nearing a breakdown brought on by whining and snot.
Today? Today was awesome. Really, really awesome. The kind of day I wish Joshua and I could have every day. Even with the snot.
Sure, it started out kind of rough, what with a 4:00 a.m. wake up that required a sippy of milk and ten minutes of cuddles.
(Okay, so I don’t so much mind the cuddles. Ever.)
Joshua ate breakfast:
 |
| Mmmm…pancakes! |
Then he discovered soap bubbles while I washed…errr…ran a sink of water.
 |
| Bubbles?? Weird. |
Then he decided to share the bubbles with Annie while she tried to sleep by the door. (I suspect this incident is why she tried to steal his toys later.)
 |
| Hi, Annie. Do you need a bath? Yes? Okay. |
From here it got a little, uh, hairy. Annie has about, ohhhhh, 60 pounds on Joshua. And she likes to use her muscle to steal his toys. You see, once upon a time, toys in the house belonged to her. Now? They don’t. To say she has not forgotten what it was like to be a wee little pup is kind of an understatement.
And Joshua does not understand the concept of “If you pretend to share, you must actually share. Otherwise, you’re just being mean.”
He likes to have a toy in his hand. Annie likes to investigate said toy whilst it is in his hand. Then he likes to pretend like he’s going to give the toy to her. Then she sniffs his hand a little more thoroughly. Then he laughs. Then she thinks it’s time to play. Then she tries to take the toy. Then he goes “AAADDDDEEEEE. NOOO NOOO!” and cries.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
I thought I was going to lose my mind today.
But, luckily, or because I might be crazy, I’d lined up another story time for today with my friend The Brunette Foodie and Co. (aka Stephanie and Samuel). Only we totally didn’t go to story time.
We walked into Pottery Barn Kids where the story time was going to be held and Joshua started voicing his protest of all things shabby chic and modern country. He was totally not impressed. Not even a little bit.
So we booked it straight to the food court. (And I do not want to think about McFatty next Monday. At all.)
We had a really good time eating french fries, talking about babies and their gear, and watching Joshua run wild and free like the wind all over the play area.
We had such a good time, this happened on the way home.
 |
| This NEVER happens. |
There were no sounds from the back seat. No protests. No sighs. No nothing. NOTHING. I looked in the rear view and he was asleep.
I panicked for a minute and thought about how awful it’d be when we got home and he woke up and I had to make it until Dan got home on only a 15 minute nap. I was mentally preparing myself for a meltdown.
A meltdown that never happened.
We pulled in the driveway and I could hear his contented sleep sighs and I unbuckled him and carried him inside. Then I expected him to wake up when we walked in and I had to shuffle him to put my bag down. And then I expected the dog’s toenails to wake him up clack-clacking on the hardwood floors.
And it didn’t happen. I laid him down in his crib and he stuck his butt up in the air and settled in.
DO YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF SUCCESS THAT FEELS LIKE?!
That feels like climbing Everest while carrying a sherpa on your back.
It was divine. And I napped, of course, because I’m on break.
At around 2:30, I heard him on the monitor and I thought, “hmm, not too bad for him. We can do this” and I went into his room to get him up. But he put his head down on my shoulder when I picked him up so I sat down in the chair in his nursery prepared to hold him until he was fully awake.
He was fully awake a whopping two hours later.
My child took a four hour nap today. FOUR HOURS.
And I got to hold him for two of those hours. And those two hours were divine. Even if my butt went to sleep.
For two hours, I got to doze and breathe in the smell of his hair and feel the rise and fall of his chest against mine and listen to his baby sounds as he turned his head to get comfortable. I got to smile when he reached up with his little toddler arm and wrapped it around my neck in either an attempt at stretching out or hugging me.
I also got to be a little sad about the fact that he is bigger than my torso and is getting bigger by the minute. He doesn’t fit like a tiny little baby on my chest anymore when he naps. Now we are all arms and legs draped over the chair in our best efforts to be comfortable.
When he woke up, he woke up slowly. And he sat up and looked at me like “Mom, what are you doing here?!” and then he smiled and started flexing his little hands into fists and said “hannnsssss” and smiled even bigger.
He ate dinner and fed himself yogurt, albeit messily, and played fought played with the dog some more and we watched Yo Gabba Gabba and did the Wiggle-wiggle-wiggle stop dance and had a really, really good evening.
And evening so good my heart is still full from it. Seriously. It feels like my heart will burst from the fullness.
And the love. The love might make my heart splinter into a million tiny pieces.
On the condition that you do not judge me for two things–the size of my hips and the sound of my voice–I leave you with this, which pretty much sums up how awesome it is to know that your child is happy, healthy, and loved.
(Yes, my child is barefoot. Yes, he is in public. No, that is not one of the things you are supposed to not judge me for. Go ahead. I can take it.
The sound of his laugh makes everything okay.)