OK, I suck.
Well, there hasn't been a day that's gone by that I haven't thought about getting back into this. And up to now, there hasn't been a day that I actually have.
But I can't let this get by me. I think my moment of clarity came to me where most of us go to think deep thoughts -- Pottery Barn. As we moved from Tuscan to Farmhouse to the next example of Chinese mass-manufactured Old World charm, I glanced down to see my little guy staring back at me with the most misty, trusting, doe-eyed look of bliss and paternal love imaginable; it almost knocked me into the Milano smoking chair. If it hadn't happened before, we had that Special Bonding Moment.
Of course, he was 15 seconds from falling asleep and more than a bit loopy -- I'm sure he would have offered a paper towel that same beautific stare of adoration. But would I remember this five years from now? Five days from now?
So I'm back to blogging. I picked a good week to start. Because after months of baby steps, Junior brought his A-game. He's learned to crawl, sit up, pull himself up and can even pick up, rotate and pop in his pacifier -- not bad! (Although he often bends himself in half to suck it off the floor rather than simply reaching down to grab it, but, hey, he's trying.)
OK, so that leaves about six months in the Dark Ages. So let's see. Well, he's gone from a pooping loaf of bread to a good-natured little guy with a hearty chuckle and a profound love of pat-a-cake and "Row, Row, Row, Your Boat" to an energetic little hellcat who enjoys nothing more than a good workout in the bouncy chair, followed by rolling wildly toward the edge of the bed toward certain head trauma the minute his diaper comes off. (Speaking of diaper off, he's also discovered "little Jamie" in a big way and seems quite disappointed that he can't twist him off for a closer look. Trust me kid, you'll be glad you didn't.)
He's mastered parrot sqawks, dolphin squeals, "fa" noises and the occasional string of faux words. He loves to pound on the floors. Neighbor loves this not so much. And the highlight of his day is bathtime with mom. Taking swim lessons as well -- maybe he's found his calling early? Although given his current jumbo size -- he easily fits into 12-month+ clothes at seven months -- basketball may be more his thing.
But above all else, he's happy. He smiles, he laughs, he claps -- he seems to be having an OK time. Which means maybe we don't totally suck as parents. And that's good.
But I can't let this get by me. I think my moment of clarity came to me where most of us go to think deep thoughts -- Pottery Barn. As we moved from Tuscan to Farmhouse to the next example of Chinese mass-manufactured Old World charm, I glanced down to see my little guy staring back at me with the most misty, trusting, doe-eyed look of bliss and paternal love imaginable; it almost knocked me into the Milano smoking chair. If it hadn't happened before, we had that Special Bonding Moment.
Of course, he was 15 seconds from falling asleep and more than a bit loopy -- I'm sure he would have offered a paper towel that same beautific stare of adoration. But would I remember this five years from now? Five days from now?
So I'm back to blogging. I picked a good week to start. Because after months of baby steps, Junior brought his A-game. He's learned to crawl, sit up, pull himself up and can even pick up, rotate and pop in his pacifier -- not bad! (Although he often bends himself in half to suck it off the floor rather than simply reaching down to grab it, but, hey, he's trying.)
OK, so that leaves about six months in the Dark Ages. So let's see. Well, he's gone from a pooping loaf of bread to a good-natured little guy with a hearty chuckle and a profound love of pat-a-cake and "Row, Row, Row, Your Boat" to an energetic little hellcat who enjoys nothing more than a good workout in the bouncy chair, followed by rolling wildly toward the edge of the bed toward certain head trauma the minute his diaper comes off. (Speaking of diaper off, he's also discovered "little Jamie" in a big way and seems quite disappointed that he can't twist him off for a closer look. Trust me kid, you'll be glad you didn't.)
He's mastered parrot sqawks, dolphin squeals, "fa" noises and the occasional string of faux words. He loves to pound on the floors. Neighbor loves this not so much. And the highlight of his day is bathtime with mom. Taking swim lessons as well -- maybe he's found his calling early? Although given his current jumbo size -- he easily fits into 12-month+ clothes at seven months -- basketball may be more his thing.
But above all else, he's happy. He smiles, he laughs, he claps -- he seems to be having an OK time. Which means maybe we don't totally suck as parents. And that's good.
posted by FlavaWheel at
3:21 PM
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