He's an only child. He has been the center of my universe for two years and he knows it. I fall in love every day with this little man who moves me. Who makes me want to be better in every way that I can. He is this driving force created by love, who has stirred up every little cell in my body, has every little cell dancing with excitement at each new discovery of mommy hood. I can't soak it up enough. I can't cram every memory into my brain so that I can replay it when he's not so little. How will I remember the smell of his sweet sweat head when he naps? Or the feeling of his chubby fingers as I kiss each one, telling him they are mine? How do you record that?
I once read a story about a little boy who goes for a walk wearing a jacket. The wind tells the sun that he is stronger, so strong that he can take the jacket off the boy. And he tried. He huffed and puffed and blew as the boy buttoned up his jacket and hugged himself tighter. The sun took on the challenge and shone her brightest, breathing her warmest breath onto the boy. And he took off his jacket.
I love this story because it shows that just being what you are is that driving force. And my little ray of sunshine moves me to do bigger and better things every day just by being who he is. Someone who makes me want to wrap my arms around him and never let go, but eager to let soar. He has taught me so much more than I could ever teach him in less than two short years. Two years that have flown by. So fast, that I am stunned when he uses a new word or puts on a hat, grabs the IPOD and tells me he is going for a runny run like dada. How does he learn so fast?
We are all wondering when this baby will make his magical debut. He has been cooking longer than Jack and surely we thought he would be earlier. We are executing the practices of full term fetal eviction: eating spicy foods, walking, squatting, unusual yoga poses and some other unmentionables with little success. Some suggestions are bizarre, but we try them.
Me to Jose: "Maybe I should start doing jumping jacks. Do you think that would hurt the baby? I mean, he's in a sack of water."His response: "Haven't you seen Finding Nemo? She's a fish killer!" Image of little redhead girl with braces shaking plastic bag with new pet fish pops up.
We'll give it another week.
My Mommy Moment:
I picked Jack up from school today where the teacher insisted I take home a plate of cupcakes. Responsible thought: We still have to stop at Publix, it's eighty degrees out and these will melt in a nano second. "Okay, thanks!"
The thickly frosted chocolate cupcakes were sad, melted mushrooms oozing creamy chocolate icing to the rim of the plate by the time we got out of Publix. I started the car, cranked up the AC and held the plate in my right hand while steering with my left. Queue seatbelt alarm, followed by Jack's, "Oh no, seatbelt, mama, ticket, police man, ticket, oh no, seatbelt, no-no." Well taught, Jack, good looking out. Next light, I held the steering wheel with the best knee crossed over a fully pregnant belly that I could hike up to the steering wheel and strapped on my belt, balancing the full plate of cupcakes.
Victory. We made it the three minutes to Amma's house. I expertly one-handed Jack out of his car seat where he made a quick swipe for a cupcake. And then they toppled... everywhere. Melted sticky chocolate icing down Jack's head, both of our outfits, plopped on my boots and his crocs, sharing with the interior of our freshly detailed Subaru along the way.
I cursed, while Jack, all bug-eyed and big mouthed drove in a huge cupcake for a sweet tooth home run.
And as much as I'd love to post one of the several messy cupcake pictures that were taken by my mother dearest, I can't. They are all fuzzy. So I will close with another fabulous beach photo.
