Monday, September 7, 2009

Son of Sam

It seems appropriate that my opening post should be about my son. My older brother calls him the "Son of Sam". Of course, he's not David Berkowitz, but he is devious in his own special way.

I miss my peanut.

I miss those days when he was that small; when he practically fit in the palm of my hand, stayed where I put him, and cried only when he needed something.

Here's what life's like now:

(How the hell he managed to climb up in this thing and stand in it to SWING in it is beyond me. HE CAN'T WALK YET!!! But he sure can get up on stuff to get to things he's not supposed to be in to...)

Little Steve is so happy, extremely intelligent, HARDHEADED, stubborn, loving.....and very attached to his Mama.

I adore my son, but he honestly wears me out. I'm sure he'll be walking within the month. He learns things in clumps. You only have to hint at something for him to figure out how to do it. He's quick, one minute he's by your side, and the next he's all the way across the house. He stays under me, and my Mother's instinct keeps me from doing anything else (my "to do" list keeps growing), because I can't do anything other than focus on him when he wants me.

Changing him is a contact sport; Big Steve commented to me one day that I was breathing hard as I tried to wrestle a onesie on Little Man. Not since he was about 6 months old has he held still to have his diaper changed, or even be dressed. Lotion? Yeah, when he's asleep. Nail clipping? *laughing* I gave up on trying to brush his eight teeth. I kiss a lot of boo-boos, and at least once a day pull strands of my hair out of his hands.

But as much as he exasperates me, he also brings me joy. I watch him sleep, and I think to myself about the wonder of being a mother. The amount of love I have for this being who is both a part of me and apart from me. I can no longer imagine life without him. My days are filled with feedings, 15-minute naps (his, not mine), lots of exercise (pulling him off the walls), and worries about what he's gonna swallow next (and gratitude that so far he's puked rather than choked on the things he's managed to find). All the frustration goes away though, when he smiles at me.

Oh yeah, and when he calls me "Mama".

No comments:

Post a Comment