{Mine}
I am far too tired today to write with any real focus but I worry if I don’t keep writing, I won’t keep writing, ya know? I currently blame my exhaustion on the Keurig company. I got this fancy coffee maker for Christmas and it’s amazing. Seriously, it is amazing. However, I ordered approximately a billion K-cups from the website and although they promise shipment within two days, I received my shipping email today. Eleven days after the order. So, I have refused to purchase coffee (Read: had little coffee) lately…because you know I was waiting on the delivery of a billion morsels of heaven.
Rowan finally walked. He had taken maybe one-half of a step prior to Wednesday night when he suddenly stood up and walked across the living room. Awesome. Except, he hasn’t taken a step since. He is truly my child with this whole stubborn, I’ll do it when I damn well please attitude.
Lately, he likes to be sung to sleep. As an infant, singing kept him awake. He would just stare at me, trying to figure out what on earth I was doing, until I gave up on the whole notion and rocked him in silence. I’m ok with that, I wasn’t then, but I’m ok with that. Now, though, it’s a wonderful little routine. I’m not sure why but one night I randomly started singing. He stared at me then snuggled in and passed out cold. If I stop singing before he’s asleep he “sings” in this beautiful, heavenly series of coos and ahhs until I start again. Sometimes, I stop early just to hear him even though it sets bedtime back a few minutes.
I know it seems un-motherly but I didn’t love the newborn phase. I know, gasp. Row was a tough baby to please. I was a perfectionist. The two didn’t mesh. I wasn’t sure when we ever would. I loved him of course and we had a routine but I wasn’t sure we would ever just get each other. We still don’t but we’ve learned to compromise and I love this age. It is my favorite and I can’t express the joy it brings me to see my heart toddling around out of my body.
He is mine. I see proof everyday. He loves music. He NEEDS to be doing something. He hates shoes and adores soft knit blankets. He likes his TV shows a little too much. He adores books, but needs to read at least five at once. He would prefer not to walk anywhere. Long car rides make him cranky. He is loud and shrill and will talk your ear off. He could, and often does, eat every hour. He thinks he is always right and can’t understand why he is the only one smart enough to figure that out. He is mine. He is me. And everyday it is clearer he is what I always wanted and needed.
