I’ve got a bit of a problem. I have this utterly adorable 19 month old who’s got me absolutely WRAPPED around his little finger. It’s true. He’s totally got my number. For the most part, I don’t really care. That’s one of the good things that comes with him being my third child. I know that I’m not going to have to carry him into his college dorm on my hip and ask his RA to pry him away from me so he can get an education and I can finally get a decent nights sleep!
It’s a season. But sometimes, like winter, it gets to be a bit much. I like winter. I love wearing cozy clothes, my down vest, sitting in front of the fire, tobogganing, cooking warm, comforting food. As much as I like winter, every year towards the end of February, I start to get tired of it. I long for relief from the constant cold and a hint of green in the never ending sea of brown, grey and white.
It’s the same with Mr. Baby. I love him. I like that he is sensitive, that he needs his Mama and that I bring him comfort. I love his snuggly little body and the feel of his downy soft curls pressed into my neck. I like his giggle, funny little quirks, the new words he is learning and the fact that I can walk into a room and make everything in his world ok. As much much as I love my guy and the closeness we share, after long weeks of his intensity, I start to feel smothered by it. Since he came down with the flu he has been attached to me with a new fierceness. I can’t check my e-mail, use the bathroom or make dinner without him on my hip. Thank goodness Mr. T works from home or I would never get Mr. Baby down for a nap (ok, I would get him down but there would be a whole lot of drama involved) because it has suddenly become offensive to him that I require him to sleep somewhere other than on my chest (funny enough, if Daddy puts him to bed he says, “nigh-nigh” and drifts off peacefully). More and more each day I find myself longing for a little relief from the ever present 26.4 pounds on my left hip or the inevitable screaming when he’s not. If I could just sleep through ONE FREAKING NIGHT ALREADY I think I’d feel a whole lot better.
Mr. Baby, when I am old and feeble, I’m going to call you up and see if you can carry me around on your back for a couple of years. You’d do that for your Mama, wouldn’t you?
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