My life is in a state of homeostasis — an equilibrium of sorts.
It also is somewhat reminiscent of the film “Groundhog Day.”
At 8 a.m., I get up, get dressed, let the dogs outside and get the baby. He is ravenous when he awakens, so the next order of business it to feed him, feed the dogs, feed myself, then get us both ready for the day.
When I come home from work, we are right on schedule with a fruit serving at about 7:30 p.m., a bath at 8, then bedtime at 8:45.
I have lived this day over and over for about two months, but something different has happened: My baby is fun.
I know what you’re thinking, but before you banish me to the Netherworld of Awful Mothers, know this: I love my baby. I would take a bullet for him. He is the cutest, sweetest, most important person in my life. My sun rises and sets with him. But I have patiently waited for the day when he could interact a little more.
He has learned that I’m “Momma” — although he refuses to say it and laughs hysterically when I suggest it — and seeks me out for comfort. He has started to snuggle when he is tired. He is starting to know what “no” means, and is testing his boundaries. And, best of all, he wants to play.
It’s fascinating to watch him bang a toy on the ground, his eyes squinted in concentration, his little mouth jabbering away. His squeals of delight when I get on all fours and crawl toward him nearly turn me to mush. We even have slow-speed chases, where I crawl down the hallway and he follows me to his room, where I have a few toys waiting.
He also is learning a little bit about independence, and I let him crawl around the living room and simply observe. He chews on the bumpers we put on the tables, he flicks his fingers along the cold air return vent, he pulls himself up on the baby gate and sways back and forth.
It’s incredible to know that, only six weeks ago, he was immobile and completely dependent. Now he is a little boy who is a few months away from walking and wants to break away and discover.
I might only get a few hours with my son each day, but we make the most of it and we are truly enjoying one another.
It might be “Groundhog Day,” but I can’t imagine any other day I would want to repeat.
It also is somewhat reminiscent of the film “Groundhog Day.”
At 8 a.m., I get up, get dressed, let the dogs outside and get the baby. He is ravenous when he awakens, so the next order of business it to feed him, feed the dogs, feed myself, then get us both ready for the day.
When I come home from work, we are right on schedule with a fruit serving at about 7:30 p.m., a bath at 8, then bedtime at 8:45.
I have lived this day over and over for about two months, but something different has happened: My baby is fun.
I know what you’re thinking, but before you banish me to the Netherworld of Awful Mothers, know this: I love my baby. I would take a bullet for him. He is the cutest, sweetest, most important person in my life. My sun rises and sets with him. But I have patiently waited for the day when he could interact a little more.
He has learned that I’m “Momma” — although he refuses to say it and laughs hysterically when I suggest it — and seeks me out for comfort. He has started to snuggle when he is tired. He is starting to know what “no” means, and is testing his boundaries. And, best of all, he wants to play.
It’s fascinating to watch him bang a toy on the ground, his eyes squinted in concentration, his little mouth jabbering away. His squeals of delight when I get on all fours and crawl toward him nearly turn me to mush. We even have slow-speed chases, where I crawl down the hallway and he follows me to his room, where I have a few toys waiting.
He also is learning a little bit about independence, and I let him crawl around the living room and simply observe. He chews on the bumpers we put on the tables, he flicks his fingers along the cold air return vent, he pulls himself up on the baby gate and sways back and forth.
It’s incredible to know that, only six weeks ago, he was immobile and completely dependent. Now he is a little boy who is a few months away from walking and wants to break away and discover.
I might only get a few hours with my son each day, but we make the most of it and we are truly enjoying one another.
It might be “Groundhog Day,” but I can’t imagine any other day I would want to repeat.
OOh, that was a great last line to the post! Haha. That is an example of something I would have just said to you over the cubicle wall. Seems a little weird to type it out. Haha.
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