In four days, Baby Boy will be half a year old. It seems like just yesterday that I met him for the first time. I've seen lots of photos of newborn babies resting peacefully on their mommy's chest shortly after birth (if not immediately). That wasn't the case for us. From day one, he wanted to face outward. To watch the world go by. To see faces. To touch things and feel textures. He had a personality from the start... even if he could only express himself in one way... crying.
I never thought the crying would stop. But the funny thing is, in reality, he really didn't cry that much. Maybe two hours a day. But I was tired. And I was thinking way too much. When he was brand new, I was spending so much time trying to straighten out HR's maternity leave mistakes, wondering what was going to happen with my job since my company was sold during my maternity leave, and figuring out the upcoming babysitting schedule to really enjoy the newborn phase. I blinked. I shouldn't have. I feel like I missed it.
But here we are. And you know what? These might be my favorite days anyway. He interacts and laughs. And when he sees me, he gets so excited that he about leaps out of his caretaker's arms. He's interested in other kids and watches them play. And I can tell he's smart. The way he's always watching, studying, taking it all in. Taking risks and trying new tricks... like rolling, scooting on his belly, practicing holding his bottle, sticking out his tongue, blowing raspberries, holding out his arms to be picked up, and sitting unassisted. And if he falls over, he doesn't get upset. He just lies there, stretches out his body for a second, and continues to play just as he was before, but in the horizontal.
And I'm learning, too. I know that he will fight sleep for about 20 seconds before giving up. That his pout (that always made me melt) comes out when he's scared, not when he's sad. That he loves music. And pears. And rubbing his face on soft blankies while being rocked to sleep. No blankie? No sleepy. And he knows that the paci is for sleep. And if he doesn't want to go to bed, he will spit out or swat that paci out of his mouth so fast and across the room. (This is why we have FOUR.) I'm learning that he's determined. That he's so busy and takes few naps, because he doesn't want to miss out on anything. He likes being around people. And I'm pretty sure the best way to punish him in the future will be to make him sit in the corner... in his room... alone.
I'm learning that I'm strong. And (more) determined. And patient (except with myself... but I'm trying). That I am surprisingly capable of functioning on little sleep and making sound decisions. But most important, that I'm enough... even when I feel like a failure. His bouts of separation anxiety remind me that he thinks I'm enough, too.
On an entirely different note, I'm up to 1.75 miles and just completed day 15 of my workout challenge. It might take me a year to get my body back, but at least I'm trying. Why did I EVER think I was fat before pregnancy? I'm crazy.
I never thought the crying would stop. But the funny thing is, in reality, he really didn't cry that much. Maybe two hours a day. But I was tired. And I was thinking way too much. When he was brand new, I was spending so much time trying to straighten out HR's maternity leave mistakes, wondering what was going to happen with my job since my company was sold during my maternity leave, and figuring out the upcoming babysitting schedule to really enjoy the newborn phase. I blinked. I shouldn't have. I feel like I missed it.
But here we are. And you know what? These might be my favorite days anyway. He interacts and laughs. And when he sees me, he gets so excited that he about leaps out of his caretaker's arms. He's interested in other kids and watches them play. And I can tell he's smart. The way he's always watching, studying, taking it all in. Taking risks and trying new tricks... like rolling, scooting on his belly, practicing holding his bottle, sticking out his tongue, blowing raspberries, holding out his arms to be picked up, and sitting unassisted. And if he falls over, he doesn't get upset. He just lies there, stretches out his body for a second, and continues to play just as he was before, but in the horizontal.
And I'm learning, too. I know that he will fight sleep for about 20 seconds before giving up. That his pout (that always made me melt) comes out when he's scared, not when he's sad. That he loves music. And pears. And rubbing his face on soft blankies while being rocked to sleep. No blankie? No sleepy. And he knows that the paci is for sleep. And if he doesn't want to go to bed, he will spit out or swat that paci out of his mouth so fast and across the room. (This is why we have FOUR.) I'm learning that he's determined. That he's so busy and takes few naps, because he doesn't want to miss out on anything. He likes being around people. And I'm pretty sure the best way to punish him in the future will be to make him sit in the corner... in his room... alone.
I'm learning that I'm strong. And (more) determined. And patient (except with myself... but I'm trying). That I am surprisingly capable of functioning on little sleep and making sound decisions. But most important, that I'm enough... even when I feel like a failure. His bouts of separation anxiety remind me that he thinks I'm enough, too.
On an entirely different note, I'm up to 1.75 miles and just completed day 15 of my workout challenge. It might take me a year to get my body back, but at least I'm trying. Why did I EVER think I was fat before pregnancy? I'm crazy.
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