I'm not quite sure how TWENTY months have passed since you were born, but it's true, here we are, July 4th and you are now closer to 2 years old than you are to 1.
I feel like your entire little life by heart is being pulled in two different directions. A part of me is absolutely loving these toddler years. You are so fun, and you make everything so fun. You make us slow down and think things through, and plan our whole day around you. What would Eli like? Could he handle this restaurant? Would he enjoy a gym class? Would he like to see a 4th of July parade. You make me step out of my comfort zone in a good way. You make me more active, more outgoing, and you certainly stretch my capacity for patience. Every day I wonder what the next stage of Eli will bring. How fun it will be when you can talk to us, go on hikes, walk on your own without us hovering, play on your own, make up stories. I CANNOT wait for all of those things to happen. But, then...then I think about how much I will miss this stage, and how much I already miss of baby Eli. Why, does it have to go so fast? And, not just fast, but why is it that the baby stage is so short? I feel like you became a toddler at about 9 months. Once you were standing and crawling and then walking, it was all down hill from there. No more cuddling, and rocking to sleep. Oh how I miss those days. Just staring at your sleepy eyes and watching you sleep in my arms. The only time we get that now is if you are sick.
Last night you woke up from your night sleep crying and then you got sick. After we cleaned you up, I sat in the rocking chair, and you immediately lay your head on my chest. EVERY.SINGLE.TIME. that happens my heart explodes. We rocked, and rocked, and rocked until you fell asleep again. I wish I could stop time and hold you forever, I wish the dishes could wait, the laundry could wait, that a day job didn't exist. I wish that being your mom would be my only job for always and ever. The guilt that comes with being a working mom is awful. There is always something to do, at work or at home, and never enough time to spend with you. I try so hard to make the time we spend together count. I want to give you the best childhood I can. I want to give you everything I didn't have, experiences I didn't have, opportunities I didn't have, but most of all, I want you to feel loved. Always loved, no matter what.
Little bear, I hope when you grow up, you'll know how much you mean to me. I know I'll be frustrating, and annoying, and one day embarrassing, but I'll try my best to leave you be. To go out into the world and be yourself. To experience things, to learn, to make mistakes and grow from them. One day I'll learn not to hover and surround you. But, for now, I'll enjoy every second I can of being your provider, your protector, your momma.
Yesterday, you stepped on a rock while you were barefooted. You picked up your foot and put it straight on my mouth. I sat there a little shocked for a second when I realized you wanted a kiss. I turned around to see if anyone saw you. I wanted to shout, "Did you see that? My baby wants me to kiss a boo boo!" I felt like I earned a mom badge that day. I know I should stop being shocked every time you do something new, or something so, well, grown-up. But, it still catches me off guard every time. It's hard not to think of you as a little, vulnerable, baby. You are not any more. You are an independent little person who has his own thoughts and opinions about things. I love/hate it.Tomorrow, you, daddy, and I will wake up at the crack of dawn, go out to breakfast, and then take you to see your first 4th of July parade. Thank you for giving your mom something to look forward to on her most hated holiday.
